


A Girl Called Lucy

by VoteSaxon45



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Abuse, Anxiety, David Tennant - Freeform, Depression, Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Episode: s03e12-e13 The Sound of Drums/Last of the Time Lords, F/M, John Simm - Freeform, Lucy Saxon - Freeform, M/M, Physical Abuse, Sexual Abuse, The Doctor - Freeform, The Master Has Issues, Year That Never Was, doctor who - Freeform, my poor baby girl i'm so sorry, oh god I feel so bad for writing this one but it needed to be done, tenth doctor - Freeform, the Master - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-06-04 01:34:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6635641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoteSaxon45/pseuds/VoteSaxon45
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she was a child, Lucy had imagined that every mirror was a gateway to a different place, a magical wonderland where Cheshire Cats awaited with half-moon smiles and glistening green eyes, roly-poly twin boys in striped shirts, waddling along beside a smoking caterpillar and a lovely, porcelain White Queen. Lucy had never before wished so badly that this realm was real. If she could only climb across this granite counter, slip through the shimmering mirror, and be immersed in a world where the whimsical flourished, where the biggest threat was a queen dressed in red with an oddly shaped head. Her fantasy world was much preferred to one where evil and corruption feasted upon the weak and strong alike, instead of a world that fed the whimsical and light-hearted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lucy Melissa Hamilton

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if this has been done before, but I don't think it has been. This is the story of that Year on the Valiant, but from poor Lucy Saxon's perspective. Tell me what you think in the comments!

Lucy Melissa Hamilton was born on June 17, 1984. Her father’s name was John Hamilton, and her late mother’s name was Melissa – the inspiration for Lucy’s middle name. Her mother died in childbirth, but her father was dedicated to raising Lucy in a loving environment, and he succeeded. She was never very bright, Lucy Hamilton. Average marks in school; nothing to get her in trouble, but just enough to let her get by. Her father was a politician in the British government, and this was how she met Harold Saxon. 

Tonight was a big night for Lucy and her father. He was holding a dinner party for friends and coworkers, and Lucy had wanted a man in her life, and not as a father role. Now, she was gently brushing out her long, silky platinum blonde hair and examining her makeup in the mirror, along with trying to decide which dress she should wear: the gown that resembled the night sky, or the form-fitting, slinky black number that would adorn her hips perfectly, flaunting her womanly curves. The night sky one was looser, however, which gave it a more elegant look, in her opinion. Above the waist of the gown, it fitted her form perfectly, and then the skirt was pleated and would swish around her ankles. She applied a bit more makeup to accent her eyes, blue and wide, and then she smiled at her reflection, ready to present herself to any potential suitors. The girl checked herself over one more time, and then tentatively opened the door of her room and proceeded down the stairs into a large sitting room, filled with people. Her father smiled at her from across the room, but he was quite busy with an important politician whose name had slipped Lucy’s mind, and he wasn’t able to greet her himself. So, she glided around the room, shaking hands with her guests and smiling politely, listening to them tell her horribly boring stories about politics and meetings and such. It was an hour into the party, and so far, the highlight of Lucy’s night was a story about a blackout in 10 Downing Street. She excused herself from a particularly boring, though attractive, man and slipped through the crowd into the kitchen, where she delved into the cabinets and poured herself a glass of red wine. She ran her fingers through her hair and took a long, exasperated sip, and then leaned on the counter and breathed heavily. There was no possible way that she would find a lover in this fray of dull men. She took another sip, and then heard a gentle voice from the doorway. “Not enjoying the party, then?” the man leaning against the doorjamb inquired. Lucy smiled politely at him and gently set down her wine glass. “Of course I am! Just needed a little breather, that’s all. Lots of people out there, you know,” she replied.

“Of course, it’s rubbish to me, as well. You can be honest with me.”

Lucy felt that he was telling the truth. He sauntered into the kitchen and quietly closed the door behind him, and then rested his elbows on the countertop, directly across from her. She felt her breath being taken away – this man was quite handsome. And by “quite”, she meant that he was one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever had the pleasure of laying her eyes on. “What’s your name?” he wondered, his voice soft and welcoming. She blushed and took a bashful sip of her drink. “Lucy. I’m John Hamilton’s daughter.” The man grinned, his teeth lovely and white, his smile captivating and his brown eyes friendly. However… Lucy thought she could sense something dark and cold. Of course, this was nonsense. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and focused on the man in front of her, the handsome, friendly man. “Lucy,” he pondered, rolling the word over his tongue. “I like that.”

“And you?”

“Harold Saxon. An absolute pleasure to meet you, Miss Hamilton.”

“Please, call me Lucy.”

“Oh, I will.”

Ten minutes later, they were fucking in the guest bathroom. And, it was quite possibly the greatest fuck of Lucy’s entire life. All those men were nothing compared to this one man and his mouth, his hips, his hands. They slipped into the bathroom, unseen by the dull, chattering guests, and the handsome stranger locked the door behind them, and then briskly pressed her against it and unzipped the back of her dress. She kissed him vigorously, winding her thin fingers into his hair and rolling her eager hips against his. Already, she could feel his hard-on pressing against her thigh. Her gown pooled on the floor at her ankles and his hands went to work against her soft, pale skin. Harold Saxon first explored her stomach, and then reached down to dig his fingers into her ass. Once he was finished slipping her delicate, lacy white knickers off, his hands ran up her belly and cupped her lovely, soft breasts, kneading them and grinning into her lips. The girl moaned lightly as his thumbs whispered over her nipples, and he was forced to pull away quickly to take his trousers and pants off, and then he grounded his hips against hers, moaning gutturally and slipping a hand to her clit, stroking in soft circles and making her moan happily. “Lucy Saxon…” Harold purred into her mouth, slipping his fingers into her wet folds and gently pushing them inside of the girl. “You like that?”

“Oh… yes...!” the girl cried, bucking her hips toward his touch. He grinned, finding her ready enough for him, and then he grabbed her thigh and wrapped her leg around his waist, gently pressing the tip of his cock into her entrance, and then he thrust in smoothly, rolling his hips so that he was buried inside her and grunting with pleasure. She cried out and dug her long, clean fingernails into his arms, bucking her hips toward him and letting out little, breathy gasps of ecstasy every time he thrusted into her. He had just the perfect touch, the most exquisite rolling of his hips and the lovely grunts rumbling out of his throat. She shuddered and gasped, clinging to his shoulders and moaning into his ear, “Oh, Harry, yes!” He snatched a handful of her golden hair and wrenched her head back, pounding into her with painful force as he hissed his words out. “My name is the Master,” he growled into her ear. She whimpered and nodded; she was biting her lip from the pain but enjoying it nonetheless, but the Master didn’t slow down or go any gentler for her. He wrapped his arms around her and dug his fingers into the fleshy globe of her arse, slamming into her harder still and grunting loudly. She tossed her head back, resting it against the door and letting out high-pitched cries of pleasure. The man could sense she was close – he leaned down and nipped her ear, panting raggedly in her ear and moaning, “I’m… close…”

She gasped and cried out for him, “Yes, yes, yes, Master!” He fumbled to lick his fingers and press them to her clit, his hand spastically moving in tight circles, and her hips bucked toward the touch as she squeezed her eyes shut and flung her mouth open, letting out a shriek until the Master slapped his hand over her mouth and quieted her. “That’s a good girl,” he growled, continuing to thrust into her even when she came, pressed between his hot body and the door. After a few seconds of her crying out and clenching around her, he let out a harsh growl and slammed into her one more time to come right inside of the girl. She gasped at the feeling of his hot seed inside her, and then whimpered at the cold emptiness when he pulled out. Gasping, panting, and wiping the sweat from her forehead, Lucy Hamilton grinned at the man known as Harold Saxon. She pushed her sweaty hair back from her forehead and leaned against the door, breathing heavily as he grinned back at her with a sly look in his eyes. “Good?” he breathed. She closed her eyes and nodded enthusiastically, and then she pushed off from the door and stepped to the mirror, examining her mussed hair and face. “Oh, how can I go back out there like this?” she cried, examining her smudged makeup. The Master stepped behind her and pressed his hips against hers, wrapping his arms around her thin waist. He pulled her hair back and pressed a kiss to her neck. “I think you look delicious,” he assured her. The girl blushed and shook her head, looking down at the sink. “I’ve got to fix my makeup,” she brushed him off gently. He chuckled and slipped his trousers back on, and then snatched a washcloth from a towel rack and soaked it in hot water. The man pressed the washcloth to his face and cleaned himself up, and then straightened up his suit, tightening his tie around his neck and examining his handsome reflection. Lucy watched him, and then took his washcloth and scrubbed her own face, as well as other skin that showed. In a drawer, she retrieved some perfume, which she sprayed delicately on herself and the Master waved away from his body. He couldn’t walk around smelling like her, now, could he? “Will you take me on a real date?” Lucy inquired, meticulously applying fresh lipstick. He leaned against the wall, crossed his arms, and pursed his lips in a way that Lucy found captivating and sexy. “I suppose I should, if you’re to become Mrs. Saxon.”

“We’ve only just met! Going a bit fast, aren’t you?”

“We’ve only just met, and yet we just fucked in your bathroom. Isn’t that right? Marriage isn’t too much of a stretch, is it?”

“I suppose not… when will we be going on our first date?”

The man thought for a moment, and then he grinned. “Tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at seven, does that sound alright?” he wondered. Lucy smiled up at him and nodded shyly, and then went to work on rejuvenating her hair. She wet her fingers down with some warm water and ran them through her hair, and then applied generous amounts of hairspray to make it seem as if nothing had happened. “The guests will be wondering where we are. My father will want to know where I am,” she worried. Harry wrapped his arms around her waist again and sprinkled her neck and shoulders with kisses. “Don’t worry about them.”

“You said… you said that your name is the Master, isn’t that right?” she wondered. He took a moment, and then nodded. “Yes, I did.”

“Why’d you say that?”

“Because that’s my name. It’s not Harold Saxon.”

“It’s… it’s the Master?”

“Yes. I’ll explain everything over dinner. You trust me, don’t you?”

She felt something odd washing over her entire body, a sort of warm, tingly, safe feeling, and she nodded, blinking dreamily. “Of course I trust you,” she hummed happily. He kissed her again and then released her, guiding her toward the door with a gentle hand at the small of her back. “Go on before me. I’ll come out in a few minutes, alright?” he assured her. She nodded and slipped out of the bathroom to rejoin the party. Dull as ever, but she wasn’t focused on their boring chatter. She was thinking about the Master. 

 

Lucy could hardly sleep with excitement that night. The next day seemed to drag on forever, and she checked the clock every five minutes, waiting for the time when the Master would pick her up for their first official date. Her father called her in the middle of the day, enquiring if she would be going out with mates that evening, as she usually did. “I’m meeting a bloke for dinner. Yeah, you should know him. One of the guests at your parties. His name’s Harold Saxon. Yeah, I know to be careful. Yeah, I like him. It’s all right, Dad, I’m safe with him! I know I’ve only met him last night, but he’s a good man, Dad. Yeah, all right. I’ll call you later, okay?” She hung up the phone and tucked it in her purse, and then she examined herself in the mirror. Nearly time. Tonight, she wore a simple black dress, hanging down just above her knee, and plenty of silver jewelry. Her heels were black and made her about three inches taller, and she’d done her hair up in an elegant up do. She was dressing to impress, and she felt rather confident. Her makeup had been flawlessly applied, and she’d put on her favorite perfume in the perfect amount. Even the house cleaner, Cheryl, commented on how lovely she looked! She only had to wait a few minutes before there was a knock on the door, and Cheryl opened it for Lucy, grinning up at the handsome man with her round little face. “’Allo, there! You must be Miss Lucy’s suitor! Please, come right in!” she invited, stepping back to allow him room to enter the house. Lucy thought his eyes were filled with something like disgust as he looked down on her, and then moved his gaze to Lucy herself. “Ah, there you are, my dear. My, do you look lovely! Good enough to eat,” he added with a twinkle in his eye and a sly smirk on his lips. Lucy blushed and stepped past Cheryl, taking his arm and allowing him to lead her to his car, where they both stepped into the back. A driver up front said not a word the entire way to the restaurant. She had to admit, Lucy was impressed. This man had his own driver, booked a table in a restaurant that had a waiting period of at least three weeks on short notice, and looked gorgeous in a simple business suit. She thought he was perfect. They took their seats inside the restaurant and Harold ordered the most expensive champagne on the menu, much to Lucy’s delight. She sipped the sweet, bubbly liquid with a timid smile, and Harold watched her all the time. It seemed… she thought it silly, but it seemed like there was a predatory hint in his grin, a sort of hunger glinting in snakelike eyes. He raised his own glass of champagne to his lips and eyed her as he drank for a moment or two and then delicately placed his champagne glass back on the table. “So,” he began, clearing his throat. “How was your day?”

Lucy smoothed down the red tablecloth in front of her and gave a small smile. “It was alright. Didn’t do much. Watched some telly, got some schoolwork done,” she replied. Harold nodded and thumbed through the menu, his eyes scanning over the options at hand. “What do you go to school for?” he wondered.

“Political science. I’d like to be a politician, like my father.”

“That’s a wonderful ambition, my dear. How is your father?”

“He’s alright. Got a bit of a sore throat, but he’ll be all right. He’s going to the doctor next week for a checkup.”

Harold nodded and pursed his lips, looking over the menu. Lucy flipped hers open, as well, and her blue eyes flicked over the words on the laminated paper. “What’ll you be having?” she wondered. He took a big breath and let it out slowly, through his nose, and then closed his menu. “I’ll have the steak. That sounds good, doesn’t it? With some red wine; and you?”

“I believe the Chicken Alfredo sounds lovely. I’ll have wine, as well,” the girl replied. She closed her menu and gently set it down on the table, straightening it nervously. She swallowed her nervousness, but she still wasn’t sure of what to say. What should she talk about? She felt like asking how his day was would be tacky after he’d already asked her the same. She licked her lips and wondered if her mascara was all right. Just in time to save her from an awkward silence, a server strolled to the table with an apron and a polite smile. “Hello, my name is Jenny and I’ll be your server today!” she chimed pleasantly. Lucy smiled up at her, as well as Harold Saxon, who the server seemed quite taken with. The politician’s daughter glared up at her and ordered her food, followed by the Master, who gave the server girl a winning smile. She stepped away from the table and left the two of them back in the uncomfortable silence. Finally, Harold spoke first. “There are some things about me I should tell you,” he began. Lucy looked up from fiddling with her nails with wide, blue eyes. “Yes?”

“I’m not a human.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m an alien. From another world. My race is Time Lord, from the planet Gallifrey. My name is the Master,” he informed her, quite calmly. Lucy frowned, but a sense of calm washed over her and she smiled dreamily. “Lovely. Is there more?” she wondered quietly, sipping at her champagne again and dabbing her lips on a napkin. He folded his hands and rested his chin on top of them, eyeing her with interest. “I suppose. I have quite a long history; I’ve lived a lot of lives.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Many, many lives. I’ve done a lot of horrible things.”

“Hm.”

“I’ve killed so many people, dear.”

She nodded and continued looking at him, but her eyes were rather glazed over. She was hearing him, but she wasn’t listening. “That’s nice, Harry.” He grinned at her and continued, telling her all the wonderful stories of his past lives, his interactions with the Doctor, and she slowly became more aware of herself. However, with every story that he told, every life that he bragged about taking, she didn’t mind. It didn’t make a difference to Lucy Hamilton, because this perfect man in front of her was Harold Saxon, taking her on a date to a wonderful, luxurious restaurant. She sipped her champagne and smiled up at the waitress, who had returned with their plates of food. She placed their plates down on the table in front of them, and then returned a few minutes later with a bottle of red wine. She poured them glasses, placed the wine on the table, and left them alone. The Master licked his lips and sawed a bite off his steak, and then took a bite and chewed it slowly, looking at Lucy the entire time with analytical eyes. She avoided eye contact and took a bite out of her chicken Alfredo. She wasn’t aware that she’d gotten some of the Alfredo sauce on her chin until the Master reached across the table and wiped it off with his thumb. The man brought his hand back to his face and flicked his tongue over his thumb, making eye contact with Lucy. This time, she didn’t look away, instead licking her own lips and smiling slyly at him. She wanted him to have her right there in the restroom of that restaurant, but of course she had to restrain her lust. They finished their dinner in about half an hour, chatting amicably about the Master’s past, and his plans for the future. They both stood, Harry straightened his suit and reached out to take Lucy’s hand and lace his fingers with hers. They strode outside, one arm looped around Lucy’s waist, into the cold night air. When the girl shivered, her suitor was there to take off his coat and wrap it around her slender shoulders. “Lucy Hamilton,” he murmured, cupping her face in his cool hands and pressing a kiss to her lips. After a moment, he knelt on the ground, taking her hands in his own, and her beautiful blue eyes widened. “Harry?”

“Lucy Hamilton, will you marry me?” he asked breathlessly, smirking and tugging a ring box out of his trouser pocket. The girl gasped and nodded, biting her lip and squealing happily. “Oh my God, yes!” she cried happily. Around them on the street, people looked at the scene happily, cheering for them and congratulating them. Harry grinned and stood, slipping the ring onto her finger and wrapping his arms around the thin girl, kissing her passionately and lifting her off her feet. She giggled and swung her feet in the air, tightly hugging him and kissing back with vigor. When she finally broke away from him, she screamed, “I love you Harry!” Around them on the street, people were still clapping and cheering, but they were also beginning to mutter, “Oh my God, that’s Harold Saxon!” Harry put the girl down and kissed her one more time, and then grabbed her hand. “Let’s go home and celebrate,” he murmured seductively. She nodded ecstatically and they climbed into Harry’s car. The limo took off toward his home, but the Minister of Defense wasn’t able to wait until they arrived. He slipped a hand under her dress and into her knickers, running his fingers in soft circles over her clit. She gasped, tightening her hold on his hand and bucking her hips toward his hand. Lucy whimpered and he grinned, brushing his lips against her neck tantalizingly. She moaned breathily and the man slipped two fingers into her cunt, gently thrusting his hand and continuing to kiss her. She opened her mouth and gasped, moving her hips smoothly and fluently, noticing a tent growing in the man’s trousers. Finally, the driver pulled into the driveway of Harold Saxon’s mansion and they hurried into the house and up the stairs. Harry pushed her onto his bed and climbed on top of her, bearing down on her with hungry, vicious kisses and digging his fingers into her hips. He rutted against her thigh, moaning and lifting her hips to unzip the back of her dress. He pulled the garment off her and threw it onto the floor, and then growled and rutted harder against her thigh, groaning and nipping at her neck. She whimpered, squeaked with pleasure, and tangled her long, thin fingers into the bed sheets; she arched her back and squeezed her eyes shut. The Master grinned, and then worked his mouth down her body, brushing his soft lips against her neck, breasts, stomach, hips, and then he firmly pressed his lips to her clit. She cried out and looked down at him with pleading eyes, filled with lust. He flicked his tongue over the soft patch of skin there and then sucked hard, making the girl squeal with pleasure and tangle her fingers in his hair. “That’s a good girl,” he murmured, running his tongue along her cunt and grinning at her excited reaction. He slipped his hand into his pants and stroked his cock firmly, moaning as he slipped his tongue inside her and thrusted gently, making her moan unashamedly and give his hair an encouraging tug. He obliged, sucking on her clit and thrusting vigorously into her with three fingers. She whined and panted hard, crying out loudly. “I’m so cl-close!” she howled. Her cries only grew louder and faster, her entire body moving and pulsing, winding her fingers in her hair and lifting her hips higher for him. He flickered his tongue over her clit, grinning and chuckling and stroking himself faster. He kissed her clit and pulled back, his fist pumping over his cock and panting harshly. “C-come for me, beautiful,” he groaned, kissing the inside of her thigh and then moving his tongue back to her clit, speeding his fingers up inside of her. She took a few more shallow breaths and screamed out, arching her back and squeezing her eyes shut, howling with pleasure. “MASTER!” she screamed, digging her long fingernails into her fiancé’s shoulders. He grunted, coming into his hand and biting down on the inside of her thigh. She whimpered and looked down at him, breathing heavily, and then he flicked his eyes up to her and murmured, “Good?”

“Oh God, yes!” she breathed. The Master kissed the inside of her thigh again and sat up on his knees, looking down at his new fiancé. “Next month.”

“What?”

“Next month. That’s when the wedding will be,” Harry informed her. She frowned and sat up, leaning against the headboard and gathering a fluffy pillow into her arms. She’d always liked cuddling pillows. “Why so soon, Harry?” she wondered. He settled down on the bed next to her, wrapped his arms around her slim waist, pulled her close, and sprinkled her neck with kisses. He kissed the top of her head and held her close to him, relishing the feeling of her warm body against his cool skin. “I love you, Lucy. Don’t you want to marry me?”

“More than anything, Harry.”

“Time shouldn’t matter. I should know, I’m a Time Lord,” he murmured, taking her hand and twisting the ring on her finger, running his thumb over the jewels. “I want to be with you as soon as possible. Wouldn’t it be amazing to be the Prime Minister’s wife, hm?”

“Yes, it would be wonderful.”

“Well, I’m going to be Prime Minister, soon. And you’ll be my wife. Yes?”

“When will the wedding be? I need to start planning, send out invitations, everything like that,” Lucy sighed, a bit flustered now that she had to plan an entire wedding on such short notice. Harry grinned down at her and kissed her on the cheek, absentmindedly running his hands over her soft, warm skin. “Whenever you like. Soon. I can’t wait to call you Mrs. Saxon,” he murmured. His hot breath brushed against her hair in such a way… of course everything would be alright. He would make it alright. A sense of calm washed over her, and Lucy Hamilton was certain that everything would be alright.


	2. Mr. Saxon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy finds something horrible out about her dear Harry Saxon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's me. I know I haven't posted in FOREVER... but it's the summer now, and hopefully I'll be able to most more often. :D

She’d arranged everything with the wedding planner, the florist, the chefs, and the musicians, and she’d sent wedding invitations to every single one of her friends, family members, and rivals that she wanted to show off to. Harry had allowed her an unlimited budget, so of course she was spending as much as she wanted. All Lucy had to do now was pick out her wedding dress – the most important part of it all! She met up with her best friend, Mary, and Mary’s husband, Chet. Chet was just coming along because he had nothing better to do that day, but he was happy to be there. They were both very excited for Lucy. They strolled into the wedding boutique and looked around in awe at the marvelous dresses and posh-looking employees. “Hello,” Lucy breathed timidly as a round, smiling woman approached. “Hello! Welcome to Victoria Boutique. Which one of you will we be fitting?” she wondered happily. Lucy blushed and stepped forward, shaking the woman’s hand. A nametag on her blouse read “Ana”, and the woman gestured around at all of the dresses around them. “Is there a certain price range that you’re interested in browsing?”

“Actually, I’m looking for the most extravagant, most expensive dress you own!” Lucy cried, overjoyed. She felt so posh right now, and she loved the idea of a life spent with a man who could give her all of this! Ana looked a bit flustered at first, but then lead Lucy to the very back of the shop and gestured to a rack of only five dresses, but they were the most beautiful dresses Lucy had seen in her entire life. She wished her sisters were here to see this, oh, they would be so jealous! She rifled through the rack, with the help of Mary, and finally found the perfect dress. It was a lace sheath gown with a chiffon cape, the color of fresh snow. The train was what Ana called a “chapel train”. Lucy had no idea what that meant, but it was pretty. The gown was much fitted to Lucy’s slim body, which she enjoyed, and Mary suggested that they find a pushup bra to flaunt her breasts on the special day. 

“This one, if you don’t mind,” Lucy suggested, fingering the hem of the dress. Ana smiled and hurried to the back room to find a gown in Lucy’s size. When she returned, Lucy tried the dress on and found that it fit nearly perfectly, and Ana only had to make a few small adjustments before Lucy was set to buy the gown and take it home to her fiancé. Mary and Chet went back home after Lucy’s driver dropped her off at home – Harry’s mansion in the suburbs. The girl entered the house and safely tucked the dress in her closet. She couldn’t believe that the wedding was only a week away! There was a soft knock on the door, and she heard her future husband’s rich voice, calling “Lucy, are you in there?” through the wood. 

“Yes, Harry. Come in!” she called back, closing the closet door and smile bashfully. She bit her lip as the Master opened the door and slipped into the room with a grin. “Hello, beautiful,” he murmured. Lucy ducked her head and smiled wider, glancing back up at him as he sauntered across the room and slipped his hands over her hips. He kissed her for a long moment, his lips soft against hers and his tongue a comforting, familiar sensation in her mouth. “I love you, Harry,” she breathed when he pulled back from her. The man tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and then sat down on the bed, his lips curved in a smug grin. Lucy wasn’t sure what he had to be smug about, but it didn’t matter. He was hers. Harry licked his lips and puckered his cheeks thoughtfully. “How was your day?” he wondered. She sighed blissfully and sat down at the desk on one wall of the room. She peered at her reflection in the mirror, and then daintily removed her earrings. “It was perfect, Harry,” she replied. He laughed softly and watched her wipe off her lipstick. “Not as perfect as our wedding day will be, I promise.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve met up with the wedding planner and worked out some details that I think you’ll adore.”

“Like what?”

“It’s a surprise. You’ve got to wait until next week, my dear.”

“Will the Doctor be there?” The Master had told Lucy all about the Doctor. As long as they had been together, the man never stopped talking about his infuriating Doctor. Lucy sensed something other than hatred and old friendship in their bond, however, but of course there couldn’t be anything more… romantic. He was marrying her, wasn’t she? If he loved the Doctor, he wouldn’t marry Lucy Hamilton. Would he? Harry frowned and pursed his lips. “No, the Doctor won’t be there. Why does it matter?”

Lucy sensed distaste in his voice, so she tried to remedy herself. “It doesn’t. I was just wondering. When will I meet him?” she asked absentmindedly.

“Around eighteen months? That’s about as much time as I was able to go back. Just enough time to get myself into government, to be elected as Prime Minister. I’m campaigning now. Good thing that horrible Jones woman was forced to step down. She was hideous, that one. Don’t you think?”

“Mm.”

“Once I’m Prime Minister, Lucy, we’ll rule the world,” the Master purred, sauntering up behind Lucy and wrapping his arms around her waist. She hummed happily and closed her eyes, leaning back against his oddly cool body. Odd, yet comfortable, soothing. “You’ll rule the world by my side, with the Doctor at our feet. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?” the alien man wondered softly, his lips brushing against her ear. She nodded dreamily, his voice sounding fuzzy and far-off. “That sounds perfect,” she replied, barely audible. He kissed her neck, nipping gently, and then sauntered out of the room without another word. She frowned at the sudden loss of the love of her life, but then she carried on and began painting her nails. A lovely light pink color that matched the gentle color of her cheeks; it would be perfect for her wedding day. 

In an hour, she was relaxing on her bed and reading a book when Harry reentered the room with a small smile. “Dinner’s ready, my love,” he informed her. She grinned at him and slid off the bed, leaving the book on the nightstand and trotting across the room to link their arms together. He led her to the dining hall and they sat themselves, and then waited for the cooks to bring their food. “This looks wonderful, Alfonso, thank you!” Lucy complimented the head chef, beaming up at him. He blushed and hurried back into the kitchen, and Harry began eating his juicy, greasy duck without another word. He didn’t even spare the staff another glance, which Lucy thought was a bit rude. Not new, however. She intended to confront Harry about his rudeness to other humans, but every time she wanted to bring the subject up she was caught in his dreamy eyes… what was she thinking about? 

She wondered how long she’d been sitting across the table from him and staring at the man with a dreamy, slightly unsettling smile as she resurfaced from her thoughts. Fortunately, he wasn’t looking at her. Harold Saxon was looking down at his cell phone and frowning deeply. Lucy decided she didn’t like his lips when he did that. “What’s wrong?” she asked him. He tapped the screen of his cell phone and cleared his throat, and then stood without a word to his wife. It was only when she asked him a second time did he answer her. “I’ve got work things to attend to. You don’t mind finishing dinner by yourself,” he informed her coolly, straightening his tie and smoothing his suit. He finished typing and sighed through his nose, a small noise of frustration and mild annoyance. Lucy was about to protest finishing dinner by herself and wanted to convince him to stay with her, but something tickled in the back of her mind and coerced her into letting him leave without protest. She sipped her Coca Cola – her favorite drink, which the Master disapproved of – and licked her lips, beginning on her dinner.

Dessert was a luscious chocolate fudge cake with chocolate dipped strawberries, and it seemed the housekeeping staff was much happier once Harry had taken his leave. One housecleaner named Honey came to pick up Lucy’s empty plates, and she smiled fully down at the woman, something that Lucy only saw when the Master was out of the house. Soon-to-be Lucy Saxon smiled back up at Honey, and then watched her graceful hands gathering the silverware onto the plates. As Honey was reaching for a plate that was particularly far away, the long sleeve of her uniform rode up her arm a bit, exposing a dark purple-blue discoloration of the girl’s wrist. Before she could yank away, Lucy grabbed Honey’s arm and yanked her sleeve up further. The bruises were mottled in the form of fingers and wrapped around her entire wrist. Long, slender, soft fingers that enjoyed trickling up and down Lucy’s legs. “What’re these?” she demanded of the woman. She grabbed Honey’s other wrist and found the same bruises on the other arm. “How many of these do you have?” the Master’s fiancé demanded. “And what’re they from?”

“Please, ma’am, don’t worry about this. It’s all right,” Honey struggled to assure her, brown eyes pleading, pulling her arm away from her mistress. Lucy scowled and stood abruptly, pushing her chair over so that it landed with a loud clatter on the wood floors. “Tell me,” she commanded. “That’s an order.”

“It’s honestly nothing, ma’am,” Honey stuttered, backing away. Lucy advanced toward her with a dangerous look on her face. “Honey, tell me. Who did that to you?”

“I think you know, ma’am.”

“Tell. Me.”

“M-Mr. Saxon.”

Lucy felt her heart breaking and rage bubbling in her gut, her eyes alight. “What did he do to you?” She realized that it would be better for both their sakes if she weren’t so hostile, and they both sat down. Therefore, she gently led Honey to the living room, which gave her an opportunity to calm down and approach the situation rationally. “Honey, tell me what he did to you,” she coaxed. Honey took a shaky breath and shook her head firmly. “I can’t. You’re gonna marry him in a week, and I don’t want this to go wrong. He’ll punish us if you don’t marry him,” the girl breathed in a quivering voice. Lucy put her hand on the girl’s own warm hand. Not cool skin, like the Master’s, but warm. Human skin felt so strange to the touch, so warm and unfamiliar. How odd. “I promise he won’t hurt you again. I can take you back to my father’s home and employ you there, and he won’t ever be able to hurt you again. You just need to tell me what he’s done.”

“You were out shopping for your wedding dress.”

“This happened… today?”

“Erm… yes ma’am.”

“What happened?”

“I was serving him his daily cocktail in his study, but I walked in on him… touching himself. I forgot to knock.”

Lucy frowned. She’d never caught Harry touching himself, and now her interest was piqued, despite the horror of the situation. “What was he… touching himself to?”

“I didn’t see very much of it, but it looked like a surveillance film of a man. Tall, skinny, good hair. D’you know him?”

“I don’t think so. What happened next?”

“I delivered his cocktail quickly and was about to leave, but he called me back inside. I had to obey; he punishes us if we don’t obey. He grabbed me, held my wrists against the desk…” Honey’s voice broke before she could tell any more, but Lucy didn’t want to hear more. She knew her husband was alien, but… rape? What did he get from raping maids that he couldn’t get from Lucy? She felt her face redden with rage, but rage wouldn’t get her anywhere right now. 

She granted Honey three weeks off and generous compensation in return for her to not press charges and ruin Harry’s public image, and then Lucy stormed into the bathroom and tossed off her dress. She turned on the shower and angrily removed her makeup while she waited for it to warm up, and then she stepped underneath the burning hot water and seethed quietly. She was under the streams for quite a while before she remembered to wash her hair and body, and then apply conditioner and wash it out. The infuriated girl shaved quickly and stepped out of the shower, dripping onto the pristine white tiles. She knew that Harry hated it when she made a mess, but she hated it when Harry raped people. 

By the time she was dressed in a pale silk nightgown, she glided out of the bathroom to find Harry lying in bed, seeming to be naked underneath the Egyptian cotton sheets and cotton blankets. Apparently, he was expecting a very active night tonight, but Lucy was having none of it. She scowled down at him until he looked up at her with mild distaste. “What’s wrong, sweetie pie?” he wondered coolly. She took a deep breath to avoid yelling at him, but she did anyways. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she shouted, full of rage. He expressed surprise at her animosity, but quickly returned his face to a distant, nonchalant expression. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” he admitted calmly. Lucy felt her hands clenching into fists and her teeth grinding together. 

“While I was buying my wedding dress?” she demanded. A look of understanding came onto his face and he took a deep breath, nodding slowly. 

“Ah. I see you found out about that. Little slut told you, did she? I’ll have that bitch dismembered. I hope this doesn’t change anything between us, sugar bun,” he murmured, sliding off the bed and sliding his hands over her hips. She jerked away from him with a deep scowl, holding her hands out in front of her so that he couldn’t get any closer to her. Right now, he was disgusting to her. 

“It changes everything!” she cried, throwing her hands into the air. He twitched. Lucy detected rage in his eyes, but she couldn’t stop herself. “You can’t just… just rape people, Harry! It’s wrong, and it’s stupid, and it’s disgusting, and I hate you! I hate you for it!” she shrieked, beating his chest with her little, fragile fists. He looked down at her, his lips curled in an amused smirk that only made Lucy more enraged. She went to smack him, but he caught her wrist before it could even get near his face and twisted her arm, forcing her to bend into submission. She whimpered and struggled to get away from him, but he grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed her against the wall roughly, teeth bared in a snarl. His eyes… Lucy had never seen his eyes like this. Terrifying, cold, feral. She was more terrified of him than she had been of anyone or anything in her entire life. Just in his eyes now, she knew exactly what he was capable of. She knew exactly what he would like to do to her right now. She knew exactly how much he would enjoy making her skin flower with blood. She trembled. This was not the man she fell in love with. Lucy trembled. 

“Stupid little whore,” the Master snarled down at her, tightening his hold on her hair and making her cry out in the stinging pain, burning in her scalp. “Stupid little bitch you are, you could care less if your Master is raping those idiotic, ugly whores. You just want my cock all to yourself, isn’t that right? Isn’t that right, Lucy?”

She didn’t want to give him an answer that would prompt him to hurt her, especially with such loathing and pure rage emanating from him, the malevolence so thick that she could taste it. Or perhaps it was the blood in her mouth from when she bit her tongue. “Y-yes, that’s right,” she whimpered, her voice barely audible. He grinned, but it wasn’t charming. It was the twist of his lips, curled in a cold, Cheshire Cat grin, hungry and predatory. She whimpered again. 

“I bet you’re just aching for me to fuck you now, aren’t you?”

No, she wasn’t. She absolutely wasn’t. “Y-yes,” she trembled, lying to keep herself from further harm. Perhaps he would be gentle if she gave him what he wanted. Perhaps he didn’t want to be gentle. The girl’s breath came shakier with every passing second that he remained silent, staring down at her with those horrible eyes. 

“Well, I won’t. I’m not going to reward you for this little… tantrum. I will forgive you by morning, however. I am not an unkind Master. You’ll sleep in the guest bedroom tonight, and I will remain here, in the master suite. Go now, before I change my mind,” he ordered. He released his grip on her hair and she darted toward the door, eyes stinging with tears and her cheeks warm with their wetness. “Wait.” Lucy turned around tentatively, every cell in her body screaming at her to run, run fast and run far away from him, but it was like she wasn’t in control of her feet. They betrayed her and shuffled across the thick carpet right toward him. He cupped one of her cheeks in a deceivingly gentle hand and looked down at her with genuine care – at least, it seemed genuine. He gave a small smile and then leaned down to kiss her for a long time. His lips were cool, soft, familiar. He smelled like whipped cream and daisies, and something fuzzy and warm blanketed Lucy’s thoughts and gently ushered her terror and horror to the very back of her mind, where they were locked away securely. All new thoughts were forced into her head: it’s alright, he loves you, you love him, he’s perfect, there’s nothing wrong, everything will be alright. I promise. I promise. I promise. I promise.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Master convinces Lucy to give everything up for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops I suck at posting

Lucy Hamilton woke the next morning with a headache. She grimaced, rubbed her eyes, yawned, and ran a hand through her disheveled hair. This wasn’t her bed. This was the guest bedroom! Why was she in the guest bedroom? There was something… something important that she needed to know… a knock on the door distracted her from the urgent thoughts. 

“Come in,” she called softly. Her throat felt sore… now why did it feel like that? A middle-aged woman that she’d never seen before poked her head in the door and smiled thinly at Lucy. She tapped her watch, signaling that it was time to get up. “Erm… who are you?” Lucy wondered politely. 

The woman’s smile faltered and she stepped out of Lucy’s room, disappearing behind the closed door. Left without an answer, Lucy frowned but didn’t think anything was wrong. Nothing could hurt her as long as her Master was here for her. She stood, wrapped herself in a baby blue silk robe, and then shuffled out of the guest bedroom and into the dining room, where Harold Saxon was waiting for her, dressed and polished already. 

Lucy glanced at the clock: the time was 7:45 in the morning. She yawned and sat down at the dining table, blinking slowly. She wasn’t usually this tired, but something was different this morning. 

An urgent voice in the back of her mind told her that something was wrong. She ignored it and smiled sleepily at her soon-to-be-husband, who smiled back and sipped at his glass of orange juice. A small glass of milk was set in front of her by one of the kitchen staff, who remained silent. Odd. Usually the kitchen staff said something sweet, like “You look lovely this morning,” or at least, “Here’s your milk, ma’am,” but there was nothing this morning. Not even a smile. 

Once he had disappeared back into the kitchen, Lucy leaned forward and whispered to Harry, “What’s wrong with them this morning? And who’s the new house cleaner? I haven’t seen Honey anywhere…” Lucy realized, looking around nervously. There was something about Honey, something urgent, but she couldn’t quite think of it. It was right on the tip of her tongue, but proved to be inaccessible. How frustrating! Harry shrugged and sipped his orange juice again. 

“Gone. Left this morning, before you woke up.”

“Why?”

“Family emergency or something.”

“Well, do you have her phone number? I want to call her, make sure everything’s alright.”

“No you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” Lucy murmured, her mind glazing over. She couldn’t remember what they were talking about. “Sorry?”

Harry smirked and nodded, smiling smugly up at the staff that brought him his breakfast. He avoided his gaze, and only Lucy noticed that his eyes were glistening with tears, he was swallowing them with difficulty. 

Lucy reached out to touch him, but he jerked away from her instinctively, gasping with fear. There was something wrong. He hurried back into the kitchen and soon returned with her plate, which was given to her quickly and then he left again before she could even speak to him. 

“Are you excited for the wedding?” Harold wondered nonchalantly, slipping a piece of sausage into his mouth. Grease glistened on his lips, his captivating lips, his lovely lips. Lucy’s eyes were fixed to those lips. 

She nodded distantly. “Yes, Harry,” she admitted softly. He smiled, his lips stretched into a handsome grin, and he licked the grease off of his lips. Pity, it looked so wonderful on his lips. Lucy thought her lips would look better on his. As if he sensed her sensual thoughts, Harry’s grin widened and he watched her eat breakfast with glee. 

When she was finished – and she was finished in no time at all – he stood and crossed the distance between her, and then kissed her deeply, fingers clawing at the rope of her robe. With his free arm, he swept the dishes off the table, not paying a single thought to the expensive plates shattering on the wooden floor of the dining room. 

He hefted Lucy onto the dining table and slid his hands underneath her silk nightgown, relishing in her warm, soft skin. He took her lips in his and slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, feeling her, absorbing her. She closed her eyes and kissed back, excited by his wandering hands and talented tongue. 

He slipped her nightgown over her head and leaned down to kiss her pale breasts, flicking his tongue over her pert nipples and listening to her soft moans. She combed her fingernails through his hair and lightly scraped his scalp with her fingernails, knowing how much the feeling of biting fingernails excited the man. 

The Master grinned and pushed her so that she was lying on her back, staring up at him, hair spread around her as if she was a pale golden sun. Oh, she shone like one. Harry slipped his fingers into her welcoming cunt, slick for him already. 

He chuckled in a way that seemed quite sinister to the girl, but her mind was muddled with lust, and there was no room for questions right now. 

His hands running over her skin, so smooth and soft and warm for his cool hands, she melted underneath him, so welcoming and ready for him, and itching for his touch, his cock, his mouth, his voice, her breath quickening with lust and love and energy, her body twitching beneath him, stomach quivering with anticipation, his breath tickling her skin, everything was so lovely, so beautiful, so perfect, there was nothing wrong with the world, nothing wrong with her, Lucy Hamilton, nothing wrong with him, Harold Saxon, nothing wrong with the staff, or the house, or the world, or anything, and nothing mattered but the two of them together, locked together, please touch me, please have me. 

It was like he could see into her thoughts; he knew that she was begging him with no words. He unzipped his trousers and pulled down his pants, releasing his throbbing hard-on. Lucy’s eyes caught on it and her breath stuttered in her throat, her heart racing and her breath coming quicker with anticipation and pure need. 

The want was more than just want, it was animal need, desire, lust. It was like he’d done something to her mind, meddled with her brain and twisted her into some sort of sex-crazed animal, but she didn’t mind. Only when she looked back on that moment, lying there on the table, she realized that he’d done something to her. But now, she knew nothing. She suspected nothing. All that mattered now was his body. 

There was a twinkle in his eye and he leaned down to kiss her and brought her into a sitting position with simply the pull of his lips, the threat of parting them from hers. She whined into his mouth desperately, tugging at his tie and fumbling for his cock. He met her touch with a low groan, but reluctantly pushed her hands away and made her stand up. 

The Master turned her around and pressed his cock against her arse, and then gently guided her legs closed. 

“Hold on, my love,” he whispered into her ear, squeezing her breasts encouragingly. She bit her lip and let out a long whine, and he pressed his cock between her legs, into the gap between her thighs and her cunt. He slid his cock through the gap and felt cool air brushing the tip on the other side, and Lucy let out a moan and a pitiful, begging squeak. 

Gently, slowly, the Master began to thrust, grunting and groaning from the wonderful friction surrounding his cock. In no time, her wetness seeped onto his cock and slicked the way as he thrusted, holding her tighter and moving his hips faster, harder. His cock brushed against her clit with every thrust, ground against her cunt, and she desperately bucked against him, needing him inside of her, not just between her but inside her. 

“Good girl,” he moaned with a husky, rough voice, his hot breath boring against her ear. She gasped as he began thrusting faster, his hips pounding against hers with the deafeningly loud slapping of skin. She could sense that he was getting closer and closer, and so was she, but she wanted him to be inside of her when he came. 

Secretly, she thought she might want him always to come inside of her because she wanted children with this man, and he never used protection. 

“P-Please,” she whimpered, digging her fingernails into his hips. He growled and shoved her away from him, pushed her down onto the table, and entered her wet, welcoming body in one slick, harsh thrust. She cried out in pain and exquisite pleasure, bucking her hips for him. 

He moaned loudly and began thrusting slow, but hard. Eventually picking up speed and force, he was slamming into her in no time, his breath ragged and fast, just like Lucy’s. She howled and arched her back, dug her fingernails into the table, creating pale marks in the wood that would certainly never go away, and cried out for him, cried out his name, “Mas-Master!” 

He grinned and slammed into her harder still until he buried himself in her heat and shot hot ropes of his seed inside her, followed by her screams, eyes squeezed shut and every muscle in her body tensing. It was wonderful. 

When she opened her eyes, after her vision had cleared up, she found him gazing down at her, soaking in the wonderful sight of her body, shimmering with sweat. He was glinting in the light, as well, and he was beautiful. Lucy would say he was angelic. 

She sat up and kissed him deeply, and then he pushed her away from him for a moment to press his lips against her ear. “Give it all up for me,” he whispered. She bit her lip. 

“What d’you mean? I’m marrying you, aren’t I?”

“Everything. I want you to give everything up for me.”

“What’s everything?”

“Everything. Your dad, school, friends, family, everything. I want you to be all mine, understand? Can you do that for me? Lucy, can you be all mine?”

She looked up at the man with wide, innocent blue eyes. Well, they used to be innocent. His own eyes were pleading with her, begging her to forsake everything and everyone she’d ever loved to be with him. But she needed to know why. 

“Why do I have to give up everything? Why can’t I have you and them?” she demanded. Harry kissed her once more, his lips gentle, soft, and tasting of cherry Chapstick, and cupped her cheek in his palm. 

“Because they’re going to die. You can’t take them with when I take over, Lucy. They’ll most likely be killed by the Toclafane, but it’s all right because we have each other. Don’t worry; I’ll take good care of your father if you just leave him behind. Go on. Leave him. Be with me,” he purred. She chewed on her lip doubtfully, her eyes flicking down to her twiddling thumbs. After a few moments of hesitation, uncertainty obvious in her body language, she felt Harry’s soft hand gripping hers. 

Soft, cool, comforting.

“Harry, I’m not so sure…” she muttered, not meeting his eyes. He kissed her forehead and brought her hand up in front of her face to show her the beautiful engagement ring. 

“Look at this, Lucy.” Her eyes flicked up to the ring and a soft smile danced across her lips. “I love you, so I gave you this. This has a piece of me in it, Lucy. If you want to be with me, if you really want to marry me… I need you to want to marry all of me. Just like I want to marry all of you,” the Master cooed. 

The girl licked her lips and closed her eyes, thinking hard for a moment, and then nodded firmly, a grimace crossing her face as if she regretted it. She didn’t take it back, however. Never. 

“Alright,” she finally whispered. “Just yours.” 

He grinned and kissed her, and then stepped back and collected his clothes from the floor. He flashed her one triumphant grin and then left the dining room in favor of their bedroom, where he was sure to change into his black silk robe that he wore to bed. Lucy frowned and hopped off the table, bent over to scoop up her nightgown, and slipped it back over her head, letting the soft silk drape over her body. 

Everything was going to be okay. She took a deep breath and ran her fingers through her disheveled hair, and then picked up her cell phone from the table. Long fingernails clicked on the glass screen as she dialed her father’s number and then shakily put the phone to her ear. She waited. 

Long, monotone dial tones continued for several seconds. It was so long that Lucy hoped her father wouldn’t pick up at all, and she would never have to speak to him in person. She desperately hoped that he wouldn’t pick up so that she could tell his voicemail what she needed to say and spare her the pain of hearing his heart break over the phone. 

“Hello?” her father’s tinny voice sounded out of the phone. Lucy squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep, uncertain breath. Did she really want to do this? But there was his voice in her head, egging her to go on, tell him, be with the Master forever. 

“Hey, dad,” she whispered, her voice tight in her throat. 

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“How’s your fiancé? Doing well? I heard he’s running for Prime Minister. I’m voting for him, for sure. He’ll do this country a world of good, don’t you think?”

“Yes, dad. I think you’re right. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“What is it, sugar pie?”

The words resisted coming out of her lips. They caught in her throat and held on for dear life, trying to crawl back into her lungs and dissolve. She took a deep breath and exhaled through her nose to calm herself. “I can’t see you anymore,” she finally breathed, all the words coming out in one big rush. 

There was a moment of disbelieving silence on the other end of the line, and then a “What?” coming out as a gasp. She squeezed her eyes shut again, and jumped when she felt soft hands over her hips and lips pressed to her shoulder. Harry was back again, back to support her. 

“I want you out of my life, dad. Harry will still take care of you, but you can’t be in my life anymore. Not if I’m going to be with him for the rest of my life.”

“Why not, sweetheart? Is this his idea? Why the hell would he tell you to do this? I thought we were friends! Is he there now? Get that sonofabitch on the phone so I can have a word with the asshole.”

Lucy suppressed a smile at her father’s animosity. At least he still loved her. Harry’s hands glided over her hips and he wrapped his arms around her stomach, pressing their bodies close together and reminding her who she really wanted to be with. She wanted to be with him. 

“No, dad. I’m sorry. He’ll still take care of you; we both will. I promise we won’t stop taking care of you. Please, please don’t come looking for me, it’ll only make everything worse. I love you, dad. You can come to the wedding, but that’s it. Please. I love you.” 

Before he could say anything else, Lucy hung up the phone, buried her face in Harold’s robe, and sobbed into the black silk, digging her fingernails into the material. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head comfortingly, rocking her back and forth. 

“I know, my love. I know it’s hard, but it needed to be done. Yes?”

She blubbered out a pathetic, “Yes,” muffled by the fabric of Harry’s robe. He rubbed her back and murmured soft things in her ear as she cried until she could cry no more, and then she just clung to him, more still than the dead, her eyes wide open with fear and regret. “No, Harry,” she rasped hoarsely. He looked down at her with an inquisitive frown. 

“What was that, dear?” he asked gently. She pushed herself away from him and looked directly into his honey-brown eyes with her stinging, red, shining ones. 

“I can’t do this,” the girl whimpered. His face melted into one of sympathy and he gathered her into his arms, but she just pulled away again and used the back of her hand to scrub away the tears streaked down her cheeks. “No, I can’t do this,” she repeated firmly. 

The soon-to-be Prime Minister cocked his head, and she noticed his eyes sparkling with something sinister and icy. “What was that? You have one chance to redeem yourself, my love. Otherwise I’ll have to punish you,” he warned coldly. She trembled with fear, but didn’t relent to him. He wouldn’t hurt her if he truly loved her. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. 

Would he?

Lucy didn’t meet his eyes and murmured, “No, I can’t do this. I love my father. I love my friends. I… love you, Harry, but I can’t give them all up.”

There was a gentle sigh of frustration with a hint of boredom, and then the alien nodded. “Yes. I understand. I understand perfectly. I have a room that I haven’t showed you yet, my love. Wouldn’t want to get blood on the carpet, would we?” he purred, narrowing his eyes in the sly gaze of a cat. 

She shuddered and looked up at him, frantically shaking her head. “No, no, no, you can’t do that to me, Harry!” she cried, terrified out of her poor wits. “You wouldn’t!” 

The Master laughed and called three of the staff into the room, having them line up rather close to the couple. “Let’s show little Lucy Hamilton what I’m capable of, hm?” he suggested sweetly. He turned to the three with an iron grip on Lucy’s arm, and raised his eyebrow at the first staff member, a maid named Kelly. “Open your mouth, sweetums,” he directed her firmly. 

She trembled for a moment, but then opened her mouth wide to expose the quivering stump of a tongue. Lucy gasped in shock and horror, not realizing that her fingers had clenched around Harry’s arm and she was clutching to him for support. He gestured for the second and third people to open their mouths, and she found the same terrifying revelation inside. They didn’t have tongues. Their tongues were gone. Severed. Cut off. 

“What’ve you done?” she breathed, unable to tear her eyes from the grotesque scene in front of her. Harry dismissed the staff and turned to his fiancé with a kind smile that disguised something psychotic. She knew it for sure, now. She had to leave him. 

“Little Honey had such a mouth on her, didn’t she? I didn’t want to take the risk of letting the others spew their pathetic little testimonies out, so I cut off their tongues. I had fun, too. Made a little pyramid out of tongues before allowing the chef to cook them and grace the staff with the pleasure of eating their own tongues,” he hummed. 

She retched and shoved herself away from him, crossing the room and pressing herself against the wall, needing to get as far away from him as she could without actually looking away from him. Her hands went out to the walls on either side of her, searching for a door as he slunk toward her with a horrible, toothy grin. 

“It’s quite all right, Lucy. Isn’t it?”

“No, Harry, it’s not alright!” she squealed. The staff members fled the room before they could get hurt as the Master got closer and closer to Lucy. She didn’t spare herself a glance at the walls to find the door. If she looked away, she felt like he would be right there on top of her, bearing down on her with that horrible grin and those violent eyes. 

“I’m sure this doesn’t change anything between us. I’ve been so looking forward to our wedding, my love. I’ve scheduled you something spectacular; I think you’ll really enjoy it.”

“Don’t come anywhere near me,” Lucy stuttered. Her hand found the doorknob and she turned it frantically, but the Master yanked something from the pocket of his trousers and locked it with a bright flash of orange light. Lucy let out a wail of desperation and turned around, frantically yanking the door knob. 

She felt his hand clamping around her neck and he dragged her away from the door, ignoring her shrieking and flailing, and then he released her and the back of his hand connected forcefully with her pale, delicate face. The impact was so hard that it sent her slamming into the wall and she sobbed loudly, cowering away from him and shaking violently with terror. 

“Will you do as I tell you? I don’t want to make you bleed more than necessary, my love. It would be a pity to scar this wonderful skin of yours, don’t you think? Now, I can make you forget about all of this. Everything will go back to the way it was. Or… I could release the inner you, the real you, the you that relishes in pain and anguish and darkness. Hm? I think you would like that. You would finally be able to be yourself. Doesn’t that sound lovely?” he purred, stroking her cheek and making her shudder in disgust and horror. 

She hated him, but she loved him. “Y-yes,” she breathed, keeping her eyes firmly closed. 

She could sense his cold grin, and then felt his forehead pressing against hers. It felt like a door was opening in her mind and a tide of horrible things flowed out, seeping into her mind and revealing something that she had never acknowledged in herself. She opened her eyes. Looked up at the Master. Everything was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, please comment with constructive criticism. :D


	4. A Beginning to an End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I'm a horrible poster >.

Finally, the day of the wedding came. She had called her father and instructed him not to come to the wedding, and she hoped he would honor her wishes. She truly didn’t want to see him anymore. 

Lucy Hamilton quivered with excitement as she dressed in her perfect wedding gown, assisted by her best friends. Finally, she was ready. Although a bit uncomfortable, the dress was perfect. Although a bit heavy, the jewelry was outstanding. Although hard to walk in, the high heels were beautiful. Everything seemed perfect!

Lucy stepped out onto the aisle and gazed across at her husband, across the extravagant chapel, across the famous and wealthy guests, across the chairs inlaid with gold and the carpet underneath her feet. She took a deep, excited breath and swept down the aisle, her feet killing her but her heart flying. 

She joined her fiancé in front of the priest and they both said their vows, and then they were man and wife. Harold Saxon lifted her veil and kissed her deeply, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling the girl close to him as the spectators cheered. When they broke apart, Harry dismissed the guests to go to the after-party but he and his new wife remained in the chapel, completely alone. Not alone for long. 

A troop of armored guards ushered twelve people into the room, and then above them was a glimmering of light and three floating metal spheres materialized above them. 

“You’re going to love this, Lucy,” Harry murmured, his arm wrapping around her thin waist. 

They both looked on with small, faraway smiles, and then the spheres – which Harry called “the Toclafane” – descended and blasted the twelve people to atoms with rays of harsh red light. Their screams were cut off quickly, and then the Toclafane swiveled around to address the Master and his wife. 

“Congratulations, Mrs. Saxon!” they cried. Their voice sounded like young children, and Lucy clapped with glee as the Toclafane danced around the room and then disappeared in more shimmers of light. Lucy giggled and clapped some more, and then kissed Harry passionately. 

“Harry, that was wonderful! This has been the most perfect wedding ever! I love you!” she cried, kissing him again. 

He kissed her back, and then they decided to skip the after-party in favor of going home and celebrating. They wouldn’t be taking a honeymoon yet, but once the Master ruled the world aboard the ship he was working on as Minister of Defense, that would be their honeymoon. Their honeymoon would last forever, as rulers of the Universe. They slipped into their wedding limousine and the driver hurried them home, congratulating them as they got out of the car and headed up the driveway. 

Harry didn’t want to wait until they got to the bedroom, so he tugged her toward the sofa in the sitting room and fumbled to undo her dress. 

“You should’ve gotten one without so many buttons,” he grumbled, resorting to ripping the dress apart and clawing it off of her. She gasped when he jerked the dress apart and felt herself growing hot and damp as he yanked her dress off of her. 

His fingernails scraped her skin as he dragged her knickers down and instantly swooped in to run his tongue along her cunt, making her gasp and shudder. He hurried to yank off his own trousers and positioned himself behind her, eager to be inside of her and feel her surrounding him, his new wife. 

“Lucy Saxon,” he grunted as he thrusted in hard and deep, making her cry out and clench around him, her fingernails digging into the sofa. He ran his hands up and down her back and combed through her hair, tugging on it and pulling her head back, exposing her long, lovely throat for him to bite down hard on. She whimpered and moaned as his hips smoothly began thrusting, moving himself inside of her, letting his soft, cool hands explore her body. 

“Master,” she moaned. 

He stood straight and began picking up his pace, grabbing the girl’s hips and moving her against him, slamming into her with the slapping of skin on skin. 

“Mrs. Saxon,” he grunted back with a grin. She closed her eyes, seeing the images of those people dying in front of her eyes and rejoicing in it. 

The Master was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She propped herself up on one elbow, digging into the couch cushion as the other hand reached down and frantically rubbed her clit. 

Pounding, grunting, moaning, sweating, panting, biting, grabbing. It wasn’t long before the both of them were right on the edge, ready to come. The Master howled, baring his teeth, and buried himself deep inside his new wife, coming right inside of her while she screamed his name and clenched frantically, every muscle in her body tensing. When she was finished, he leaned over and pressed his lips to her sweaty back, humming happily. 

“I’m so glad you’re my new wife, Mrs. Saxon,” he hummed in her ear. She grinned and twisted around to kiss him gleefully, beaming and positively glowing with excitement. 

“I love you, Harry.”

 

It was time. Today was the day. Election Day. Lucy Hamilton Saxon dressed smartly today, in a tan blouse with a black dress underneath, skin-colored tights and black heels. 

She felt like the wife of a politician – in fact, she was. 

The girl hung her late mother’s pearls around her neck and positioned them on her collarbone with dainty fingers, long fingernails. 

Her lips were just lightly colored, nothing extravagant or particularly noticeable, and she applied minimal makeup, although she would no doubt be on TV today as the Prime Minister’s lawfully wedded wife. 

She stepped out of their room and met with Harry in the dining room, where they enjoyed a quick breakfast before heading out of the door and to the car. 

They would receive news of the new Prime Minister in hours, but Harry wasn’t concerned. He had constructed satellites that were sent into space all around the Earth and were broadcasting low-level telepathic signals to every person on Earth, disguising his true identity and obvious forgery of an entire past. 

The car arrived at 10 Downing Street and Harold Saxon made his way inside, along with all the other political candidates to await the verdict. 

 

Hours later, tense hours for the other candidates and relaxed hours for Mr. and Mrs. Saxon, the people had spoken. Mr. Harold Saxon was the new Prime Minister of Great Britain. 

Lucy grinned widely and kissed him, and then they made their way outside, flanked on all sides by hungry paparazzi and “Vote Saxon” posters. Adoring fans waited on the bottom of the stairs and Harry waved happily to his people, joined with Lucy, who was grinning proudly up at him and then back down at the cameras. They flashed as the paparazzi shouted questions and fans screamed adoring comments. 

Lucy had no doubt that the Doctor was out there somewhere, watching them on a television, just as Harry had told her he would be. 

This was the first day of a new empire. An empire of bones and blood and brutality. And it would be beautiful. 

They walked down the long flight of stairs and then stopped a few stairs from the bottom for Harry to make his speech. Lucy had heard it many times; he was very proud of this speech and knew that it was exactly the perfect thing to infuriate and drive all hope out of the Doctor. It was the Master’s country, now. 

“This country has been sick,” Harold Saxon informed the public. “This country needs healing. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that what this country really needs, right now… is a Doctor.” 

Lucy loved his voice, and so did the citizens of the world. He grinned at the camera, and then the television cameras stopped rolling and the two were directed back to 10 Downing Street. They entered, were congratulated, but almost immediately, Harry was called to a cabinet session. 

On his way, he was bombarded with files being handed to him from every direction, from people whose names Lucy had already forgotten. She wasn’t concerned about remembering their names. They would be dead soon, anyways. 

Just before he was able to enter the Cabinet room, she called after him in a desperate attempt for his attention. She hadn’t gotten any since he was elected Prime Minister, and she craved him. 

“Harry,” she called, prompting the man to turn around and face her. “I’m so proud of you, Harry.” 

There was a soft hand on her cheek, and she heard him say “Bless,” before he leaned down to kiss her. She kissed back until they were rudely interrupted by a pretty woman in a pantsuit, looking like she didn’t know what to do. 

“Sir, um, what am I supposed to do, again?” she asked of Lucy’s husband. He flicked his eyes up and down her body, and then asked her name. “Tish, Latisha Jones.”

“Well then, Tish,” he stepped forward and put two fingers underneath her chin before saying, “You just stand there, and look gorgeous.” Harold Saxon smiled winningly and disappeared into the Cabinet room, where he would assassinate all of the members of Cabinet. 

Filthy traitorous hogs, they were. That’s what Harry had called them over dinner the other night, at least. Lucy smiled at all of the people gathered around and tentatively stepped through the crowd, making her way into the sitting room, where she would wait for her husband to be with her again. 

Only a few minutes after she had sat down and relieved her feet of the pressure of being on them all day, a large, blonde woman burst into the room, waving off Latisha Jones and carrying a black file in her arms. When Lucy protested, the woman waved her off, too, but caught her attention with, “The power behind the throne.”

“Is that right?”

“Front page.”

“Oh. Oh, go on then, twenty minutes!” Lucy exclaimed, fixing her hair as Latisha protested and looked to Lucy for help. Lucy didn’t like that bitch, so she shook her head, signaling for the girl to get the hell out of there and leave the two of them alone. Vivien Rook, the reporter’s name was, of the Sunday Mirror. She hurried into the room and froze as soon as Latisha left, looking down at Lucy with terrified eyes. 

“Mrs. S-Saxon, I believe we are in terrible danger. Not just England, but the whole world. Your husband is… not who he says he is.” Lucy resisted the urge to roll her eyes and say, 

"Obviously,” but she instead frowned and cocked her head. “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” she said hesitantly. Although, of course, she knew exactly what Ms. Rook meant. No, her husband wasn’t who he said he was. Yes, everyone was in danger. No, Lucy wasn’t concerned. 

As Ms. Rook went on about Harold Saxon’s forged past, Lucy stifled a yawn and sensed her husband come in the door behind the two women, but Vivien Rook did not notice. “The thing is…” Lucy began. “I made my choice.”

“I’m sorry?” Rook inquired, cocking her head slightly.

“In sickness and in health. Isn’t that right, Harry?” she called to her husband. Ms. Rook’s eyes lifted to find Harold Saxon leaning on the door behind them, and he raised his head with a small smirk. 

“My faithful companion,” he murmured. Lucy smiled. Vivien Rook stumbled to get out of her seat, her eyes filled with fear, delicious, beautiful fear. 

“Mr. Saxon,” she stuttered, gathering her things together and backing toward the door. “I was just playing a joke on poor little L-Lucy, I didn’t mean-“

“Oh, but you’re absolutely right, Mrs. Rook.” He walked to the far end of the room, in front of the yellow-curtained windows. “There is no Harold Saxon,” the man informed her. 

Mrs. Rook’s look went from flustered to serious and a little bit scared. She relaxed a bit, looking at Harold Saxon with hardened eyes. “Then who are you?” she demanded. 

He smiled and raised his arms out to his sides. “My name is the Master, and these are my friends,” he said softly, and then the Toclafane materialized around him. 

The four Toclafane circled him slowly, beeping and glinting in the light. Vivian’s eyes followed the Toclafane, and the fear returned. Lucy licked her lips and her smile widened, watching their interaction. One Toclafane flew toward Mrs. Rook, followed by the others, and chimed in a high, cheery voice, “The lady doesn’t like us!” 

Another Toclafane with a more masculine, but still childish voice, flew toward her and ejected long, sharp knives near the bottom of its globe body. “Silly lady. Dead lady,” it growled ominously. 

Vivien Rook screamed. 

Lucy jumped out of her seat and ran out of the room with the Master, who closed the door behind them. He raised his eyebrows at his wife and then opened the door, where Mrs. Rook was still screeching. Closing the door blocked out the noise, but Lucy began to sob. Harry opened the door again and winced at Mrs. Rook’s continued shrieking, and then he closed the door yet again. He bit his knuckles as his eyes widened comically, but Lucy wasn’t amused. She let out all of her breath in one worried sigh, her eyes wide and tears nearly dripping off her lashes and falling down her cheeks. 

“Harry, she knew!” she cried, her voice barely a whisper. “She knew everything! You said Archangel was 100%!”

He straightened his tie, leaning against the wall, and shrugged. “Ooh, ninety-nine. Ninety-eight?” he figured casually. 

Lucy let out a quiet sob and whirled on him, demanding, “What if others start asking questions? What’re we going to do?” A sympathetic look came onto Harry’s face and he pushed himself off the wall, reaching out to hold her. She gratefully fell into his open arms and pressed herself against him, sobbing quietly.   
/  
The man rested his chin on top of her head and held her tightly, and then he murmured, “Tomorrow. That’s when everything ends.” After a few long minutes, Lucy pulled away from him and let him wipe the tears from her cheeks, and then pressed his soft lips to hers, comforting her with gentle touches. “Soon, we’ll rule everything. The Doctor will be at our feet. His whore, his pet, and his favorite civilization will crumble before us. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Harry,” Lucy sighed. His words comforted her, made her believe that everything was going to be all right. 

There were a few more hours of official business that Harry needed to attend to, and then the Saxons were able to go back home after a busy, trying day. They relaxed on the couch for a couple of hours, watching television shows and listening to Harry tell stories of his past lives and the adventures he’d had with the Doctor, and then they ate dinner, took a shower, and were off to bed. 

There was no sex tonight; Lucy was assured that there would be plenty of that once they ruled the world, invincible in their sky ship, floating in the clouds. Tonight, they were tired, and all they wanted to do was fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

At least, that’s what Lucy wanted to do. She never could be sure of what went on in her husband’s head. 

They didn’t bother dressing after they got out of their shower. Instead, they dried each other off and fell underneath the blankets without any clothes on at all. Lucy was wonderfully warm against Harry’s cool, alien body, and he wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss on the back of her neck. His breath rustled her hair and tickled her ear and Lucy smiled dreamily, closing her eyes and nuzzling into the fluffy pillow. 

“I love you, Harry,” she murmured, her voice muffled by the fabric. He smiled against the back of her neck. There they were, tangled underneath the blankets, pressed against each other’s bodies. Lucy could feel tomorrow approaching, and her body quivered with excitement and anticipation. She could feel Harry’s pulses on her back, _onetwothreefour_ , _onetwothreefour_ , _onetwothreefour_ , _onetwothreefour_ , and the sound lulled her to a deep, dream-filled sleep. 

 

Light streamed through the windows of their bedroom, but Harry was still right there, behind her, holding her, unlike he was most mornings. She yawned and stretched out, disturbing her husband’s sleep and waking him, as well. He slowly opened his eyes and she smiled at him, kissed him, and then rolled out of bed. 

Stretching again, Lucy yawned silently and then rubbed her eyes, looking down at her husband who was eyeing her body with lust-filled eyes. She grinned down at him and then turned around to face her dresser. Lucy Saxon bent over to tempt Harry, and heard him growl. 

She had no doubt that he wasn’t taking his honey-brown eyes off her backside as she searched through the drawer for her knickers and tights. She wore what she had worn yesterday because it looked nice, and then heard Harry getting out of bed behind her. 

“Are you excited to see the Doctor?” Lucy questioned. 

Harry hummed and nodded, dressing in his usual suit and nicest black tie. “Oh, he’ll be so jealous. I can’t wait to find out what he thought when he saw you, my dear!” he cried happily. Lucy laughed, slipped her blouse on, and examined her reflection in the mirror. 

She looked good. Good enough to meet the infamous Doctor. When she turned around, Harry was already dressed and straightening his tie. 

 

Lucy and the Master were escorted through the _Valiant_ by the Master’s personal guards, and they entered the conference/control room confidently. Lucy gasped when she walked in and saw all the grandeur, the size of the place, and Harry pulled out a chair. “Like it?” he murmured in her ear. The girl put a hand to her heart and sighed, falling into the chair and crossing her legs. 

“Oh, I do. It’s beautiful!”

“I designed this place when I was the Minister of Defense. Every detail,” he growled, sitting in a chair behind her and straightening his tie with satisfaction. 

Soon, the President was ready to begin broadcasting to the entire world the very first meeting between alien and man. Well, the first official meeting. Lucy checked her watch. It was two minutes past eight o’clock in the morning. Wonderful! 

She grinned in anticipation as the Toclafane shimmered into existence around the President. He fumbled with his words, said some boring nonsense, and then it was the Toclafane’s turn to speak. “Where’s our Master? Pretty please?” one of them demanded. “We like our Master. We don’t like you.”

“I-I can be Master, if that is what you wish. I will accept mastery over you, if that is what God intended,” President Winters stuttered, gaining confidence the longer he talked to the Toclafane creatures.

“Man is stupid. We want our Master,” the Toclafane insisted. 

Lucy trembled with excitement as the Master sighed, “Oh, alright, then!” and jumped out of his seat to giddily slide in front of the glass conference table. “It’s me! Tah-dah!” he sang gleefully. 

The President frowned deeply and looked down on him. “Mr. Saxon, what is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

“Shut it, Uncle Sam,” the Master sneered. He crossed his arms, turned to his Toclafane, and commanded, “Kill him.” 

Instantly, the Toclafane swooped toward the President and incinerated him, screaming and all, and the occupants of the room shrieked and began running about like chickens with their heads cut off until some of the Master’s hypnotized associates pulled guns out of secret places and commanded everyone to get down. 

The humans did as they were told. Lucy leapt out of her seat, running to be with her Master, and they bounded up the stairs where the Master stopped on the landing and looked to one of the television cameras. 

“Now then, people of the Earth!” he cried. “Please attend carefully. Basically… erm… end of the world.” 

Suddenly, Lucy could see someone from the back of the room, someone she hadn’t even noticed before now, charging toward the Master. He was detained by the Master’s guards and forced to kneel, hissing up at the ruler of the Earth, big, brown eyes filled with rage and desperation. 

The Master rolled his eyes. “As if a perception filter was gonna work on me. And look, the girlie and the freak. Although… I’m not sure which one’s which!” he claimed with a bout of laughter. 

Lucy turned her eyes to the back of the room, where she wasn’t sure… she thought there were people there, but… she wasn’t registering them. It was as if her brain didn’t want to believe that they were there. When one of them moved, she could see him clearly. 

He was sprinting across the control room toward her husband, but he whipped out his laser screwdriver that he’d built from the Doctor’s stolen TARDIS and sent a beam of laser energy pulsing through the handsome man, who let out a scream of anguish and fell to the floor where he stood. 

Another person ran from the back of the room and fell to her knees beside the dead man, fretting over him. 

“Doctor, we meet again!” the Master cheered. He laughed loudly, making Lucy smile and turn her eyes back to the Doctor. “Oh, I love saying that!” her husband admitted, followed by more laughing. 

Below them, the Doctor began to beg, something that the Master predicted would happen. After a few more minutes of them going back and forth, the Master finally explained the science of his laser screwdriver to the other Time Lord, and then jumped over to a metal case waiting for him on top of a table at one corner of the room. He opened the case, revealing a metal hand, and Lucy laughed to herself, her eyes filled with glee as she looked down at the Doctor. 

Her eyes flicked back to the Master, who was programming his laser screwdriver, and then he pushed the trigger and pointed the screwdriver at the Doctor. The captive Time Lord twisted and writhed underneath the Master’s powerful device, aging hundreds of years in mere moments, shrieking and crying out. 

Once he was satisfied, the Master took his thumb off the trigger and looked down at his new creation, a hideous old man with frail limbs and even older eyes. Skin sagged off of his bones, and his previously excellent, bushy hair was replaced by a few white wisps on top of a bald skull. He was breathing heavily, most likely still in pain from the horrifying procedure of the laser screwdriver, but Lucy didn’t feel sympathetic for him. Why should she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next time! Don't forget to comment with some constructive criticism or just some kind words >w


	5. The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry. I'm so bad at publishing, but I've been going through a lot lately. My mom kicked me out, and school, and social things, so... you know. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Ruling the world was wonderful. 

She and her Master could have sex whenever and wherever they liked, and they did so often. 

Martha Jones had fled the Valiant and returned to a burning, screaming Earth, leaving her handsome Captain Jack Harkness and tenacious Doctor behind, stuck with the Master and his wife. 

Evidently, Captain Jack was immortal, so Lucy and the Master could do whatever they liked to him, and he would be shiny and new in no time, ready for them to play with him again. He was handsome, though, and he had such pretty blue eyes. Lucy liked his eyes. 

The first week on the Valiant, the Master didn’t have much time for his wife. He was busy arranging things and preparing things and such, technical stuff; Lucy didn’t pay much attention. All she knew was that her husband left their bedroom early in the morning, and returned after she’d fallen asleep. 

The only time she got to see him was when they happened to pass in the corridors, or they were both in the conference room at the same time, but he hardly talked to her. She supposed that was alright, as long as when everything calmed down he would be with her most of the time. 

She knew he was a very busy man; running the world couldn’t possibly be easy. So, Lucy spent her time either looking after him longingly, speaking with his captives, or dancing along to the music that was playing in the console room most of the time. Sometimes, Harry would even dance with her, taking time out of his busy schedule to pay her some much-deserved attention. 

Today, she was visiting the handsome Captain Jack, who was very kind to her. None of the staff was kind to her, not even Latisha Jones and her family. Everyone hated Lucy Saxon because she was the wife of the Master, mass-murdering psychopath. They were quite rude. 

Jack was nice, if not a bit ignorant. And, he was very mean to Harry. “Hello,” Lucy called tentatively as she entered his cell. 

“Lucy!” she heard him cry back, happy to see her. 

“How are you today?”

“Just like I am any other day. Trapped in a cell while the Master runs the world. How wonderful, hm?”

“It is, actually. Why’ve you got to be so mean to him?”

“Why’s he got to be so psychotic?”

“It’s not his fault, it was the Untempered Schism!”

“Oh, so he’s told you?” 

Lucy nodded and Jack gave her a sarcastic look. “What else has he told you?”

“Everything, I think. He’s told me about his childhood, the Doctor, what he knows about you, what he’s done in his past, all of that,” she informed him. Jack frowned and looked her over suspiciously. 

“And you’re okay with everything? You’re okay with all the people he’s killed? All the people he’s killing?”

“I wasn’t. And then, he opened my eyes. He made me see who I really am. It’s beautiful, Jack. Why can’t you appreciate how beautiful it is?” she pleaded. Before he could reply, there were footsteps on the grating floor heading toward them. 

Lucy turned and found the Master striding into Jack’s cage, hands in his trouser pockets and lips pursed thoughtfully. Lucy loved it when he did that with his lips. It aroused her more than it should have. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” the Master purred, sidling up next to her and wrapping an arm around her waist. She grinned up at him and kissed him on the cheek, and then heard Jack scoffing in front of them. 

“God, you two, get a room,” he hissed. 

The Master went from smiling down at his wife to snarling at the Captain in a matter of seconds, his eyes burning with rage. “You shouldn’t speak to your Master like that, slut,” he growled. 

Jack snarled right back, yanking on his chains and jerking his body forward. He was itching to beat the shit out of the Master, but he was restrained. “I’m not your slut, you fucking psychopath!” Jack howled, his voice husky with fury. 

The Master smirked and left Lucy’s side, sauntering so close to Jack that they were only a foot apart. He leaned in close to the Captain’s face and sneered, “Slut,” and then laughed loudly, infuriating Jack even further. 

Lucy loved Harry, but she wasn’t sure this was necessary. He was already in charge of the planet, did he really need to call his prisoners rude names? 

Harry turned on his heel and strolled back to his wife’s side, and then looked Jack over. “I’m sorry I haven’t been spending much time with you lately, pumpkin,” he began without even looking down at Lucy. “But I’ve just been so busy. You understand. I hear you’ve been spending time with this piece of garbage here. A little too much time, I think. Isn’t he just the dirtiest whore you’ve ever seen, Lucy?”

“Harry, you don’t need to-“

“Don’t fucking call me that!” Jack shrieked, thrashing in his chains. The Master ignored him and looked down at Lucy Saxon. “He is, isn’t he? You know what I think he’d like?”

“Wh-what, Harry?”

“I think he’d like to watch me fuck you. Wouldn’t he like that? And, I think you’d like me to fuck you, wouldn’t you? It’s been a while since we’ve been able to fuck, hasn’t it? Come on, my love, let’s give Jack a reward for being such a dirty slut,” the Master purred. 

Captivated by his smooth, silky voice, Lucy gazed up into his alien eyes and nodded distantly, slipping her hand into his. 

Jack roared and pulled on his chains, squeezing his eyes shut and pulling so hard on his chains that his face turned red and the veins in his forehead bulged. 

Lucy was faintly aware of his screaming and frantic protests, but the only thing she was focused on were Harold’s hands slipping down to scale her hips and ass, lifting the hem of her short pink dress and massaging her cunt, already damp, and kissing her deeply. 

She felt herself pressed against a small, black cabinet as he pushed the skirt of her dress up past her hips and then slipped her hot pink, lacy knickers down to her knees. 

“Stop! Don’t you fucking touch her!” Jack was shrieking at them. 

The Master grinned into Lucy’s mouth and ground his hips against hers, making her moan with lust and pleasure. Her delicate fingers deftly unbuttoned his trousers and pushed them down past his thighs. She hooked her fingers in his pants and slipped them down, too, and then gripped his already-hard cock and stroked firmly, fast, squeezing in all the right places. 

He moaned and bucked into her hand, and fueled by her lust he sped his fingers over her clit, making her moan and squeal and arch her back. When he was satisfied with her, he shoved her away from him and turned her around, bent her over the cabinet. 

“Stop, stop, stop!” Jack howled in the background. Lucy turned her head and looked at him, feeling the tip of the Master’s cock pressing into her entrance and Jack watched, horrified, but there was a tent growing in his trousers. 

The Master could see it, too, and he laughed coldly. “Look at the slut, Lucy. He says he doesn’t want to see this, but take a look at where his loyalty really lies. Never been one to resist that cock of yours, are you, Jack? Or any other cock, for that matter. Isn’t that right?” he jeered, rolling his hips and making Lucy cry out with exquisite pleasure. “Maybe when I’m done here, I’ll let her suck you off, hm? I bet you’d love that.”  
Lucy enjoyed the feeling of her Master’s cock inside her, but she couldn’t help frowning at the idea of sucking Jack’s cock. That’s not what she wanted. No one could just give her away, she was a person, not an item. 

However, she couldn’t focus on that when the Master began thrusting hard, slamming into her and digging his fingers into her back and shoulders. She huffed and moaned, clutching the end of the cabinet and crying out, shaking with the force of his thrusts. 

Jack shook his head frantically, eyes wide and glued to the horrible scene in front of him. 

“Or…” the Master grunted, grinning wickedly. “I could drag the Doctor in here and he could suck your filthy cock. Oh, I bet you’d love that.” 

Jack went still very, very quickly and just stared at the Master, his eyes filled with horror and tears. 

“S-stop,” he whispered pathetically. 

The Master groaned throatily and tilted his head back, pounding harder and harder into his wife until he slammed into her one last time before coming right inside of her and giving a long growl as he came, his fingernails digging into her shoulders. 

She cried out and came with him, bucking against him and arching her back. When she looked back at Jack, he had his eyes shamefully averted and his cock was standing tall in his trousers. 

The Master rested there for a moment, and then slowly pulled out of Lucy with a low moan. He pulled his pants and trousers back up, and then turned toward Jack with a smug grin. 

His eyes flicked down to Jack’s crotch, and then his grin widened. “Now, shall we reward you for being such a good pet?” he mused. Jack didn’t say anything.

“I think not. Whores aren’t rewarded unless they do something especially good, do they? And you are not a good whore,” the Master growled. Strolling over to Jack, he scooped up a large, serrated knife off of a table nearby, and then glanced over his shoulder at his wife. 

“Come here, Lucy. I think you’ll enjoy this. I was planning on giving you lessons in the art of torture sometime soon, and when is a better time than now?” he questioned. She pulled her knickers up, ran her fingers through her hair, and then stepped over to her husband, joining him at his side. She eyed the knife warily and wrapped her arm around her husband's, watching him closely. 

“What’re you going to do?” she wondered, her voice soft and light. He didn’t answer, instead positioning the knife at the top of Jack’s trousers. With a flick of his wrist, he sliced open the trousers and exposed Jack’s throbbing cock. 

The Captain gasped at the small friction on the intensely sensitive area and then the brush of cool air against the tip. Lucy disconnected from her husband and walked to the side, between the two, so she could get a better view of what he was going to do. 

Her eyes flicked over Jack’s cock for only a second or two before she looked away, feeling guilty for being unfaithful. The blade of the knife danced across Jack’s sensitive cock and the Captain twitched with anticipation, his breath stuttering in his throat. 

Everything was deathly silent except for the sound of metal gently scraping against skin. Gently, slowly, softly, the Master moved the blade up to the base of Jack’s cock and pressed down lightly, making Jack hiss with pain and desperately jerk away from the madman. 

Yes, Lucy accepted that he was mad. Wasn’t everyone? She watched as the Master slowly began sawing, pressing just barely on the knife so that the process would take longer and would be infinitely more painful. 

“I’ll let you finish the last half, Lucy. Won’t that be wonderful? Would you like to do that, or would you like to kill him?” he wondered, still gently sawing. Lucy’s breath was taken away by the grisly sight and the sound of Jack’s shrieking, but she was able to answer her husband in a few moments. 

“Teach me how to kill him,” she whispered in his ear, her mind fuzzy. The Master grinned wickedly and began sawing a bit faster, the serrated blade of the knife grinding against Jack’s cock. Soon, Jack’s cock was dangling, barely held on by fragments of skin, between his thighs. 

With a final twist of the blade, his cock slapped on the concrete floor and Jack howled and shrieked in pure, white-hot agony, thrashing in his bonds and going completely limp, letting them hold him up. 

He swayed gently, his throat hoarse from screaming so hard, and sobbed. Lucy watched blood dripping from the stump and splattering onto the floor and his severed limb with a macabre fascination. 

The Master turned to her with an insane grin and wrapped his arm around her slim hips, pulling her close to him and twirling the knife in his slender fingers. “Isn’t it lovely?” he breathed. 

She nodded, her fingernails digging into the back of his suit and her eyes wide with enchantment. Jack was breathing raggedly, his breath sounding hoarse in his throat, and he shook violently as he lifted his head to look up at her. 

“P-p… please,” he begged, his voice nearly inaudible. Tears shone in his eyes and provoked a pang of sympathy in Lucy’s heart. She looked up at her husband, clutching to him and looking down at Jack with pity. 

“Please, Harry, kill him quickly,” she pleaded softly. He pursed his lips with dissatisfaction, but left her side and plunged the blood-soaked knife straight into Jack’s chest, impaling his heart and twisting cruelly. It took him a few moments too long for Jack to die, but Lucy had to give the Master credit for being kinder than he usually was with the man. 

She sighed sadly and buried her face in her husband’s suit, wrapping her slender arms around him and hugging him tightly. He hesitated for a few moments, but then hugged her back, although he seemed unhappy with her. 

They didn’t wait for Jack to revive in front of their eyes, like they did sometimes. This time, the couple vanished back into the Valiant and made their way into the control room, where the Master was due for his daily massage. Lucy helped him remove his coat, and then she tossed it onto the glass conference table while he reclined in a comfortable leather chair and closed his eyes. 

She strolled up behind him and massaged his shoulders firmly, showing strength it didn’t look like she was capable of. She felt the Doctor’s eyes on them from his tent across the room. 

When she glanced, her fears were confirmed and she found the Doctor’s old, brown eyes staring at her from just outside his tent. Her eyes met his, but he didn’t look away. She did. 

Lucy Saxon looked away from the Doctor and focused on Harry’s shoulders, his blissful, and yet smug expression, sometimes his mouth hanging open in pleasure if she massaged a particularly wonderful way, or a particularly sore spot, his eyes rolling back in his head the few times they were open. 

Of course, sometimes when they opened, they fixed on the Doctor. 

And then, the captive Time Lord looked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you are! Chapter 5! I hope you enjoyed, and as always leave a nice or constructive comment below <3


	6. A New Reign

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of things have been going on, and I just haven't had the energy for posting lately. But, since I can get onto Archive at school, here's the latest chapter. Please leave nice comments!!!

Sun shone through the circular windows of the Valiant and woke Lucy up. 

She yawned and stretched out, finding the bed next to her bare, as it usually was. Harry either didn’t sleep or woke up extremely early to attend to world-domination business. 

The room was cold, the soft carpet underneath her feet was a bit chilly, and she shivered. Not bothering to get dressed, Lucy Saxon stood and slipped on a red, silk robe that warmed her up. She yawned again, only spent a few moments brushing her unruly hair, and then shuffled out of her bedroom and made her way through the steamy corridors of the Valiant to the control room. 

She looked up onto the second floor, where all the controls and steering mechanisms were, and found her husband there, diligently working on instructing the workers to build rocket yards all across the world, and then wage war on the Universe. Lucy only had small doubts in her mind that they wouldn’t win, but she knew that Harry was good at waging war. She’d heard his stories. 

Although her husband didn’t realize her entrance, Lucy sat at the glass conference table and propped herself up by her elbows, waiting for the staff to bring her food. Francine Jones – Martha’s mother, from what Lucy understood – was at the other end of the table, polishing the glass surface of the table to a mirror-like shine. 

She glanced up at Lucy, gave the girl a disgusted look, and then returned to her work, not making eye contact with anyone except for her other daughter, Latisha. Lucy hated Tish. That pretty face, those luscious lips, those warm, brown eyes. Ugh, she was repulsive. 

Lucy waved Tish over and tipped her nose to the servant girl, knowing that Lucy was better than Tish ever could be. 

“I want my breakfast,” she demanded snobbishly. Ordinarily, Lucy didn’t believe in being rude, but she wasn’t opposed to being rude with this girl. 

The corner of Tish’s lip turned down in a snarl, but she resisted the urge to say anything and turned on her heel, striding toward the kitchen. Lucy watched her go. She had a nice ass, which might prove to be a temptation to her ever-charismatic husband. Not like it mattered, anyways. Harry could have sex with whomever he wanted, and Lucy wouldn’t mind. She supposed it might be strange that she didn’t mind, but Harry had married her, and if he did choose to have sex with these other humans, he didn’t love them like he loved Lucy. They were just objects for him to do with as he pleased, unlike Lucy. 

Later than Lucy would’ve preferred, Latisha returned with her breakfast, carried on a silver platter with the most delicate and expensive utensils. The platter was placed just beside Lucy, and Tish transferred the plates from the platter to the table in front of the Master’s wife. Lucy didn’t even look at the slave and instead delicately tucked into her plate of steaming eggs, sausages, and potatoes, occasionally sipping her gourmet orange juice. 

The Master had abducted only the best, highest-quality chefs from the surface of the Earth to cook for him and his wife. Meanwhile, the servants and staff of the Valiant only received meals that were not well cooked, per instructions of the Master himself. 

As Lucy ate, she noticed the Doctor crawling with difficulty out of his tent, his old bones no doubt aching and creaking. Lucy watched him with interest, and he didn’t look at her. He was too busy sitting on the floor and swiveling to look up at the Master, who finally turned around. The first person he saw, however, was not his wife. Rather, the first person he saw was the Doctor. 

Harry grinned ecstatically and leapt down the stairs to crouch in front of the Doctor and pinch his cheek patronizingly. 

“Hey, there, Gramps. How’d you sleep?” After he received no answer, the Master acted as if the Doctor had answered and pasted on a phony, sympathetic face. “Oh, you didn’t? How awful! Well, I can guarantee that you won’t get any sleep today, that’s for sure. I’ve finished preparing everything with the rockets, and such, and there are only a few loose strings that needed tying up. I’ll have enough time for you, now. Come on, up you go,” he grunted with the exertion of hauling the Doctor to his feet. 

The ancient Time Lord remained standing only with difficulty, clutching to the table for support, as the Master stepped back and slipped his hand into his pocket, where he brought out his laser screwdriver and aimed it directly for the Doctor. Indifferent to the scene that was about to take place, Lucy looked down at her plate, impaled a sausage link with her silver fork, and bit off a large chunk, returning her eyes to the scene. 

With a flick of his thumb, the Master pressed the trigger of the laser screwdriver and de-aged the Doctor. The control room filled with shrieks and screams of the writhing Doctor, who had plummeted to the floor and was curling and thrashing like a dying snake. 

Francine and Tish squeezed their eyes shut, their faces contorting into expressions of pain and sympathy as they stopped working until the Master lifted his thumb off of the trigger and the Doctor finished screaming. 

Lucy leaned over a little bit to get a clearer view of the Doctor, who was now young and handsome. 

Lying on the floor, breath hissed through gritted teeth, the Doctor's chest heaving up and down and his entire body trembling. Lucy felt a pang of sympathy for him, but then she looked away and stabbed a bit of diced potato, lifting it into her mouth and continuing to watch the unfolding scene with interest. 

The Master knelt down on one knee beside the Doctor and ran a finger from the Doctor’s young, youthful throat all the way down to the base of his crotch. The Doctor squirmed. His bushy eyebrows knit together with dissatisfaction and he frowned deeply up at the Master. “Please… don’t… do this,” he rasped, still breathing heavily from the stress of being aged back to his previous age. 

The Master pursed his lips and rolled his eyes, and then stood, tucking the laser screwdriver back into the inside pocket of his sport coat. “Now, then. Are you gonna keep begging? I usually enjoy your begging, but… you could be spending your breath on something worthwhile, you know,” he huffed. 

The Doctor struggled to sit up, and then turned onto his hands and knees and stood on his knees. The Master grinned wickedly and grabbed a fistful of the Doctor’s hair, dragging him toward the psychopath’s crotch. The Doctor stuttered and frantically tried to pull away, but the Master’s grip was firm. 

Lucy frowned a bit, threatened by their history together, but chose to keep her faith in the Master, knowing that they were married and he would still love her. 

“You’ve been just itching for this, haven’t you? Dirty slut,” he hissed. 

The Doctor shook his head and kept trying to yank away, but the Master didn’t comply. Instead, he reached his free hand down to unzip his trousers and fish his half-hard cock out of his trousers. Lucy twitched at the sight of it, and then crossed her legs. She found herself sucking on a link of sausage, and then blushed with embarrassment and quickly chewed and swallowed the tasty breakfast meat. 

When she looked back, she found the Doctor’s pleading eyes on her, but she did nothing to help. Instead, she stood out of her seat and stepped over to the Master’s end of the conference table, where she took another seat and watched, instead of assisting the Doctor. 

His eyes didn’t shine with resentment or disappointment, however. They shone with sympathy. As if she was the captive, instead of him. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense to Lucy Saxon. She didn’t want it to make sense. Lucy’s thoughts were interrupted by the Master speaking once again, sneering down at the Doctor. 

“You’ll be begging for me to make you come soon enough, and you won’t waste your breath on begging for the lives of these pitiful humans for much longer,” he insisted. The Doctor shuddered and continued trying to pull away, but the Master pressed his cock against the Doctor’s cheek and thrusted his hips a little bit. His cock grew ever harder, and Lucy could see the Doctor shuddering and squeezing his eyes shut in denial. 

“No, Master,” he insisted, giving the Master an opportunity to shove his cock into the Doctor’s mouth. 

“If I feel the slightest hint of teeth, I’ll punish your precious Latisha Jones. You know how much I like to punish, don’t you?” the mad Time Lord hissed. The Doctor recoiled at the taste of the Master’s cock in his mouth, infuriating Lucy. He should be grateful for the opportunity to have something like that in his mouth. He should be begging for it, pleading for it. She bristled, catching her husband’s eye. 

“You’re right, Lucy,” he agreed aloud. At first, he startled Lucy, but then she remembered that he had psychic abilities and could read her thoughts. “He’s not being very grateful, is he?” Harry demanded, looking down at the Doctor with contempt. “This is a rare privilege. Show your Master how grateful you are, peasant.”  
The Doctor shook his head and made an attempt to pull away, but the Master smacked him lightly and tangled his fingers in the hair on the back of his head and shove him forward, thrusting his cock down the Doctor’s throat and suffocating the captive. 

He choked and spluttered, a noise that obviously aroused the Master, and took a few moments to adjust. Lucy figured that the Doctor realized that it would be better for him if he just went along with what the Master forced him to do, so he adjusted to the Master’s cock and just sat there, letting the Master do what he liked. However, this did not satisfy Lucy’s sadistic husband. 

He frowned down at the Doctor and yanked the Doctor’s hair hard, making him squeal with pain. “Please me. Go on, work that magical tongue of yours,” Harry commanded. Lucy smiled and crossed her legs, feeling herself heating up at the sounds her husband was making, his husky voice, and his fluent hips as he thrusted smoothly into the Doctor’s mouth. 

The Doctor choked every time the Master’s cock brushed against the back of his throat, but he made an effort to make the Master come as quick as possible. Lucy could sense his tongue winding around the Master’s cock from Harry’s exceptional groans and moans and she felt a pang of jealousy in her mind at how much he was enjoying this. Perhaps he wasn’t as loyal as she believed. No, that couldn’t be. He was having his cock sucked by an attractive man, who wouldn’t enjoy that? Of course, Lucy had never gotten the impression that he liked men as well as women before this Doctor appeared. No matter. He was just a prisoner, a plaything, not the Master’s spouse. He didn’t mean anything. Did he?   
Apparently, the Doctor’s tongue was in fact very magical, because the Master was grunting and burying himself in the Doctor’s throat in a matter of minutes. The Doctor spluttered and choked on the Master’s seed and was allowed to pull off of his slick, dripping cock, and then he slumped on the floor and was left there, breathing heavily. The Master grinned wickedly and tucked himself back in, and then hummed happily down at the other Time Lord. “Mm, good boy.”

“Don’t talk to me like that. I’m not your pet.”

“Of course you are! You’re my pet, my slave, my whore, you name it!” the Master insisted cheerfully. 

The Doctor glowered up at him and shook his head. “Please, you need to stop. Just stop this. Give my TARDIS back, come and travel the Universe with me,” the Doctor begged. The Master rolled his eyes and held out his hand to Lucy, who shot out of her seat and took his hand. 

She looked down at the Doctor with jealousy and contempt and allowed her husband to lead her up the flights of stairs into the control room, where staff members were working diligently at their computers and consoles. He guided her around all of the machines and to the front window of the Valiant, where they could look out at their kingdom. Burning, screaming below them. 

The Toclafane soared with leisure past the Valiant, and Lucy wasn’t sure whether or not they were looking at her. From what she could tell, they didn’t have exterior eyes. What was inside of them? Were they only robots – metal and wires – or were they flesh and blood, like she was? What species were they? What planet were they from? Who were the Toclafane? She felt her husband’s arm slipping around her waist and she looked up at him with awe, and then back down at the scorched Earth. “It’s beautiful, Harry,” she breathed. 

He nodded, his fingernails snagging on the fabric of her robe. “It’s all mine. With my most formidable enemy cowering at my feet. It’s good, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Harry. It’s wonderful.”

“We’re gonna rule the Universe,” her husband informed her quietly. Lucy put on a smile, but she honestly wasn’t sure if he was talking about her or… the Doctor. 

After a few moments, Lucy broke away from him and stepped down the stairs. She passed the Doctor on her way to the bathroom, but he grabbed onto her ankle and wouldn’t let go until she looked down at him. 

“Please…” the recently-young Doctor begged pathetically. She glanced up concernedly at her husband, who wasn’t looking at her, and then looked back down at the Doctor. 

“What do you want?” she hissed, trying to sound hostile but her voice was trembling. The Doctor’s big hand remained wrapped around her ankle, although she tried to shake him off. 

“Please, stop this. I know you can. You know his secrets, you can help me!” the Doctor whispered.

“No. Let go!”

“Please, Lucy, you’re better than this! You were a good girl!”

“You don’t know me. Leave me alone!”

“I can’t. Not until this stops. You can help, you can save billions of people! Come on, Lucy! Help me!” the Doctor pleaded. 

Lucy glanced up at her husband again, who was just about to turn around and see her there, and she frantically shook her ankle, nearly kicking the Doctor’s face in the process. Finally, he released her ankle just as the Master turned around and saw her there, looking down at the captive Time Lord. A look of suspicion and fury crossed his face, and he began trotting down the stairs. In a flurry of fear, Lucy hurried across the conference room and away from her husband. Just as she was about to leave the room, she heard the sound of skin striking against skin and a pathetic whimper from the Doctor. She didn’t look behind her and left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for the next ridiculously long break between chapters?!
> 
> Yeah... sorry...
> 
> But I'll try harder this time. It just all depends on how I'm feeling or how she's making me feel, you feel?


	7. The End of Lucy Hamilton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for you guys.

This morning, when Lucy woke up, her Master was there in bed with her, gazing at her excitedly, with a hungry grin. She smiled sleepily up at him, assuming that he’d enjoyed last night so much that he wanted more this morning. 

“Lucy, I’ve got something to show you, today. It’s fantastic; you’re gonna love it!” he insisted brightly. She yawned and stretched out, and then rolled out of bed and stretched out her legs. She bent over, touched her toes, and then straightened back up. 

“What kind of place is it? How should I dress?” she inquired. He shrugged, and Lucy noticed that he was already dressed in his sharp, black suit. 

“Doesn’t matter. It’s a surprise. Come on, hurry up,” he commanded. 

She frowned, but opened the door to her walk-in closet and browsed through her vast array of gowns and dresses. She finally selected a lovely brown dress made with light material and the skirt was embroidered with delicate, pink roses. Lucy slipped into the dress, sleeveless with a v-neck, and stepped out of the closet. As Harry waited impatiently, Lucy sat down in front of her mirror and delicately applied her makeup, tended to her hair. All right, she was ready. 

The Master cleared his throat and she stood, and then she took his hand and he led her to the Doctor’s TARDIS – which was now the Master’s paradox machine. Oh, it was beautiful. The entire console room glowed with an ominous red light and occasionally there was the sickly sound of a cloister bell, and then the Master jumped to the controls and began piloting. 

Lucy remembered him speaking about the TARDIS. What it was, whom it really belonged to, how it got into the custody of the Doctor, and how the Master acquired it. She also knew that the TARDIS could only go from the 21st century to the year five billion, so there wasn’t much room for a leisurely trip. 

“Where are we going?” she inquired. 

The Master deliriously grinned back at her and pulled another lever, and the TARDIS was sent into flight. In a few moments, it landed with a loud bang, and then Harry grabbed Lucy’s hand and dragged her toward the door. Giggling and trotting after him, Lucy used her free hand to grab onto him so that she was holding onto him with both hands, and she waited for him to open the door. 

“Where are we?” she demanded excitedly. 

Harry dragged her close and planted his lips on hers, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing her close to him. His lips made her forget about everything she wanted to ask him, her mind went completely blank. The moment he pulled away, however, everything came back to her mind and she blinked up at him dreamily. 

The Master grinned down at her and swept the door open. In front of her was a black, burning landscape. From what she could make out through the thick, blanketing darkness, there were furnaces stretching as far as the eye could see. A chorus of shrieking and screaming offended her ears and scraped against her senses, and she instinctively flinched back at the sight, the sound, and the stench of burning flesh. 

She clung to her husband, trembling with terror, her eyes wide with horror. 

She couldn’t look away from it all. 

Faintly, in the glow of a hot, flickering fire, she could make out something… glistening. Red, wet, glistening on a dark, writhing shape. Writhing in agony, flesh sizzling and burning and melting off of its body. 

Lucy knew that the figure used to be human once, but it wasn’t anymore. Now it was just… a thing. It was a creature, shrieking and burning and quivering. 

Lucy trembled, and couldn’t look any longer. She turned away, hunched her shoulders, and buried her face in her husband’s chest. 

Now, she saw everything. The ephemeral existence of the human race. While people on Earth were asking about the meaning of life, what everything was leading to, what life was for, Lucy was here. And she realized… it was nothing. Life meant nothing, because we would all end up screaming at the dark. There could be an end to world hunger, governments could collapse, or poverty could cease, and it wouldn’t mean a single thing, because there was the human race, right there in front of her, burning and writhing. There was no hope for anyone. 

She saw the Master looking down at her, but she didn’t meet his eyes. Her eyes were fixed on the macabre scene in front of her, the grisly finale of the human race. 

What was the purpose of anything, now that she knew this? What was the point of living, what was the point of conquering the Universe, what was the point of getting married, having children, being wealthy? Why do any of that if all of it was just going to end up here? How could she carry on when she knew that the future of the human race was blood, and fire, and darkness? 

“Take me back,” she whimpered into Harry’s coat. He ran his fingers through her long, blonde hair with his cool fingers and stood there for a moment longer, gazing out at the exquisite chaos that he’d helped create. If it wasn’t for him and the sweet, kindhearted Professor Yana, these creatures, these things that used to be human but aren’t anymore, they wouldn’t be here. 

She felt something slithering through her mind, leaving warm, tingling traces behind it.

Lucy could feel the pride swelling in her husband and she was proud of him. She was proud of what he’d created. It was beautiful. 

She felt him pushing her away, and then his hand fell to the small of her back and he gently ushered her back into the TARDIS. Closing the doors behind them, he leaned on them and surveyed his wife with interest. 

“Are you alright?” he inquired quietly. 

She was leaning on the console, clutching to it for support and breathing heavily, tears streaking down her porcelain-pale cheeks and splattering onto the grating floor. The girl didn’t answer for a few moments, but then she squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep, shaky breath. “Yes,” she breathed unsteadily. 

Harry crossed over to her and hugged her from behind, brushing his lips against her bare shoulder. They were silent for several minutes, because there was nothing that they needed to say. There was nothing to say. Lucy grabbed hold of Harry’s arms, clutching to him as if he was her sole life support. He was the only one that could save her. With his breath brushing against her ear and his heartbeats thrumming against her back, Lucy knew that everything was going to be okay. Perhaps there wasn’t a reason for living in the long run, but there was now. She wouldn’t even be alive when this would happen, when humanity would be shrieking and clawing and writhing, groping for the light and starving for the dark. Feeling his lips on her cheek, Lucy was able to smile. 

“What do you think?” the Master wondered. 

“It was beautiful.” Her voice was thin and wispy; it sounded hollow. Even to her. 

The Master released her and stepped back to the console, piloting it back to Lucy’s rightful time. When they landed, he crossed back over to her and gently laced their fingers together, tugging her toward the doors. He opened them and escorted her out of the TARDIS, where they found the Doctor waiting for them to emerge. 

As soon as the doors opened, the captive Time Lord darted toward the TARDIS, trying to shove the two of them out of the way to gain entrance into his machine, but he was stopped by the back of the Master’s hand connecting painfully to his cheek. The Master struck him so hard that the Doctor was sent slamming onto the floor of the Valiant and clutching his wounded cheek. 

He scrambled to his feet again and desperately tried to sprint into the TARDIS again, but this time the Master let go of Lucy’s hand. He pushed her out of the way and grabbed the Doctor’s shoulders, bending him over and plunging his knee into the other Time Lord’s gut. The Doctor cried out and grunted in pain and then finally fell to the floor, allowing Lucy to step over him, and the Master closed and securely locked the doors of the TARDIS. When he was finished, he looked down on the Doctor with contempt and disappointment. 

“I admit it was an oversight not to chain you up. I won’t make the same mistake twice.” He snatched a fistful of the Doctor’s hair and dragged him into the control room, completely forgetting about his wife. She didn’t follow. 

She just stood there, staring at nothing, seeing only the burning fires, the darkness, the blood and the writhing and the death. There was no telling how much time had passed when she was jerked out of her hallucinations by someone’s hand on her shoulder. When she turned around, she found that it was Francine Jones who was looking at her with kind, motherly eyes. 

“Are you alright?” Francine wondered softly. Lucy only realized she was crying when Francine cupped her cheek in a warm, soft hand and used her thumb to wipe away a tear. Was she alright? How could Lucy possibly be all right after what she’d just seen? 

“I… don’t know,” she replied, her voice quiet and empty. Francine looked at her for a moment, and then stepped forward to wrap Lucy in a soft hug. A soft, motherly hug. It felt strange to Lucy. She’d never had a mother figure. On the other hand, Francine was the slave of her husband, who was a psychopath, sadist, and genocidal madman. Why was she being so kind to Lucy? How could she justify holding her and comforting her when she was married to and hopelessly in love with the one man that had caused her so much pain and torture? Lucy had all these questions, but she didn’t want the hug to end. However, she didn’t want her husband to know that she’d been bonding with any of the Jones’. 

Finally, she was forced to pull away from Francine and she wiped her cheeks free of tears. “Th-thank you,” she murmured, not making eye contact with the woman. 

“What’s he done to you?”

“N-nothing. It’s alright.”

“Why are you with him?” Francine pleaded. Lucy smiled softly, her eyes blurred with tears. 

“Because I love him,” she replied, her voice so soft that it was barely audible. 

“How the hell can you love a monster like him?”

“He’s… he’s not a monster. He’s not what you think he is, you haven’t known him as long as I’ve known him. He’s… he’s… he really loves me. He means well. Well… he doesn’t, but that’s… that’s not what matters,” Lucy stuttered. She couldn’t find an answer that would suit her… she couldn’t find an answer at all. Why did she love him? He was a fantastic lover. He could be gentle if he wanted to be. He was wealthy – he was the ruler of the Earth! He was handsome, but those weren’t grounds for love. 

Those were material things, physical aspects. There was nothing there to prove why Lucy loved the Master. Perhaps love didn’t need an explanation. Perhaps love just happened. Francine looked at her with sympathy, her face wrinkled and her mouth turned down in a pitying frown, and Lucy suddenly hated her. She didn’t want the woman’s sympathy. She didn’t need sympathy. What she needed was respect. 

Just as she heard her husband coming toward them, she raised her hand and backhanded Francine, making the woman cry out with surprise and pain. Harry made his entrance just after the fact, and he stood there for a moment, looking down at them with confusion, and then he beamed down at Lucy. 

“Oh, my beautiful bride,” he murmured before striding toward her and sweeping her off of her feet, kissing the girl passionately. 

Francine glared loathingly up at the two of them, and then she hurried away, clutching her wounded cheek and cursing under her breath. Lucy kissed the Master desperately, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and thrusting her tongue into his mouth. He hummed appreciatively, slipping his hand under the skirt of her dress. She moaned, caught by surprise and giving him an opportunity to plunge his tongue into her mouth and press her against the doors of the TARDIS. 

She knew that the Master would otherwise bring her to the bedroom or somewhere with lots of people, but having sex on – or against – the TARDIS would infuriate the Doctor. Harry ground his hips against Lucy’s, his hard-on sliding against her clit and bringing her a burst of electric pleasure. She hummed happily and only protested slightly when he put her down, turned her around, and pressed her against the doors of the TARDIS. 

Breathing heavily with lust, she felt him slide the skirt of her dress up her hips and hold it there with one hand, while the other hand slipped her knickers down her legs and then unzipped and pushed down his own trousers and pants. The girl gasped when she felt the tip of his cock pressing into her entrance, the Master emitting a low growl behind her before slamming the rest of the way into her and grunting with lust. 

He began thrusting smoothly, pounding deep into her with speed and enough force to make the wooden doors creak and rock as she leaned heavily against them. Lucy cried out when she felt his fingers slipping down the front of her body and gyrating over her clit, sliding down to her cunt before returning to her clit again. She whimpered and whined with pleasure, and within moments, her entire body was trembling and tensing up, tipping over the edge. 

She could tell from his deep, punishing, rapid thrusts and his ragged, heavy breathing that he was close, as well, and she tried to hold on long enough for him to come first, so that she could be his good girl. Lucy Saxon gritted her teeth and dug her fingernails into the blue wood of the TARDIS, her toes curling. 

He roughly pounded into her a few more times, and then he buried himself deep into Lucy to come inside of her. Finally, she allowed herself to come as well, shrieking with pleasure and arching her back. She felt his fingers leaving her clit and his hands running down her bare back, and then he pulled her hair aside and kissed her neck, nipping it harshly. 

She yelped, but smiled dreamily, still tingling everywhere. He slowly pulled out of her and kissed her shoulder, letting the skirt of her dress fall down as he pulled his pants and trousers back up. She turned, leaned against the TARDIS, and wiped sweat from her face. Bending over to pull up her knickers, she felt the emptiness returning to her and sighed, flashes of the horrible, dark future invading her mind. 

 

After she woke, she laid in bed for several hours, just staring at the ceiling and watching humanity burn. Her husband was nowhere to be seen, as usual. 

He hardly paid attention to her recently, now that his precious Doctor was all young and fresh again. 

It was like he didn’t even love her anymore. On more than one occasion, Lucy had walked into the conference room, or the TARDIS, or their own bedroom and had caught the Master fucking that pathetic Doctor, that ungrateful cunt, that disgusting slave. She’d blossomed a newfound hatred for the Doctor, and had terrified herself with a subliminal loathing for her own husband. 

Finally, she worked up the courage to get out of bed, and she shuffled slowly across the bedroom and into the bathroom, where the cold tiles against her bare feet made her shiver and wrap her silk robe around her. It didn’t help much. It seemed that she was always cold, nowadays. 

She stared at her reflection in the mirror and felt a black pit of despair in her gut at what she saw. This was what she looked like every morning since the Master had shown her the end of the Universe, the self-destruction of the human race. Her wide, blue eyes were empty and hollow now, all dull and sad. She hated her eyes. 

Her mouth rarely turned up in a smile anymore, and instead was in a state of perpetual… nothingness. She didn’t feel anything. All she could feel was emptiness and darkness. 

What was the point of anything if humanity was just going to end up burning? Her face seemed to have sprouted all new frown lines, and her cheeks were unusually pale. Lucy Hamilton Saxon used to be a beautiful woman, in the peak of her youth. Now… what was she? Some sort of creature, some sort of monster that the Master had created. 

But he was still her husband, and she loved him. The girl took a deep breath, leaning heavily against the counter and closing her eyes, and then looked at herself in the mirror again. She wasn’t a monster, and she wasn’t a creature. She was Lucy Saxon. And Lucy Saxon was perfectly alright. 

Taking longer than usual to meticulously apply her makeup and style her hair, Lucy was able to trick herself into believing she was still the girl she was when she met Harry. Treating herself today would help her feel beautiful again. Deep breath. Exhale. You’re okay. After several moments of staring at her reflection in the cruel mirror, Lucy Saxon turned and strode out of the bathroom with her head held high in a mockery of confidence. 

The corridors of the Valiant were hot and steamy, dimly lit by sparsely placed red lights and filled with the clamor of engines and hard-worked slaves. Occasionally, a Toclafane or two would fly by, whizzing and whirring and humming, and she would have to stop walking and lean against the wall for support. Chest heaving, breath evading her, air feeling thick and hot in her lungs, sweat beading on her pale forehead and tears stinging in her lovely blue eyes. When she looked at them, all she could see was the twisting, churning, writhing, bleeding figures in the dark, glistening with blood in the flickering firelight. When they spoke, all poor Lucy could hear was the shrieks and screams in the dark, wailing and howling for a better world, striving to fend off the darkness and the cold. 

She shook her head, banishing the violent images from her immediate consciousness and struggled to fight through the rest of the walk into the conference room without vomiting at the sight of the murderous Toclafane. She hated them. She despised them. Worst of all… she pitied them. Out of all that suffering came these creatures, regressed into the mindset of children and plagued with the intentions to murder their ancestors with no consequences. Lucy recalled the Master telling her about the Doctor’s stolen TARDIS and how it had been transformed into a Paradox Machine, which was how the Toclafane were allowed to slaughter millions and not dissolve into spectacular displays of light. Of course, Lucy didn’t know for sure that there would be brilliant light displays upon their demise, but she’d watched a lot of science television, and she fantasized how beautiful it would be if the Paradox Machine were to be destroyed. 

As she stepped hesitantly into the console room, walking less with grace than with the cautious timidity of a small, preyed-upon animal wary of a predator, she glanced toward the Doctor, who was sitting on the floor beside his tent, handcuffed to the railing of the staircase that lead to the control platform. He warily watched the Master, in the control room, with calculating eyes, his face stony and clear of all emotion except all but concealed dread. 

Many times, Lucy had considered freeing him to bring an end to the Master’s tyrannical reign, but what if it didn’t work? What if they were caught? Lucy dreaded the consequences that the Doctor and his friends would receive, but the consequences that she would receive would be far worse, Lucy believed. 

She’d seen what he was capable of, nearly every day for a period of time. When they'd first taken over, Harry would waltz into their room and wake her, and then once she was dressed and ready, he would grab her by the hand and drag her into Jack’s cell, where he would perform the most artful torture and teach her how to work with her hands as he could do. He taught her how to bring immense pain and suffering, how to exert her power over someone through agony and ruthless rage. 

She sat at the conference table and stared distantly into her reflection until she sensed someone coming up behind her. She hoped it was her husband, but of course, he was busy. Always busy. There were endless lists of chores to do on this godforsaken ship, and he meticulously organized everything, attended to all duties and checked all details. He was sure that his plan would not fail. Harold Saxon was ready for everything. 

Instead of her husband approaching her, Lucy found Latisha Jones standing beside her, wearing her crisp maid’s uniform and an ugly frown. In her arms, she carried a silver platter laden with only a sweating pitcher of ice-cold water and a tall glass. Tish set the pitcher on the glass conference table, followed by the drinking glass, and poured a generous amount of ice water into the glass. Lucy stared at it, but didn’t move to pick the thing up or drink from it. 

She waited for Tish to either ask what she would like for breakfast or to leave, but the girl hesitated, saying nothing. Finally, she spoke after a long, uncomfortable silence. “Mrs. Saxon,” she inquired. Lucy slowly turned her head to look up into Tish’s frightened brown eyes. When she didn’t answer, Tish’s eyes darted this way and that with worry, making sure that the Master was nowhere near. “Are you okay?”

Lucy frowned. Why did Tish care? As far as the girl was concerned, Lucy was the sociopathic wife of a homicidal madman. Apparently, Lucy’s confusion shone in her face, because Tish was quick to explain herself. “Well, I just… wanted to make sure you’re alright. I mean, the Doctor thinks you’re not all bad, and I… I’m not sure why, but I trust the Doctor. Martha trusts him, so I do, too. Sorry, I just mean… it’s not your fault.”

“What isn’t my fault?”

“All of this. The murder, and the… horribleness of it all. It’s not your fault. You weren’t bad before you met him, and he made you like this.”

“Like what?”

Very quickly, Tish was choking on her words and realizing that she wasn’t doing anyone help by bumbling on like so. She squirmed and fidgeted for a moment, and then raised a hand to scratch her forehead. “Sorry, sorry, I just… sorry. Um, what would you like for breakfast?” she asked quickly, desperately trying to change the subject. 

Although Lucy went along with it, the question remained in her mind. Like what? 

“Nothing. I’m not hungry. You can go,” she dismissed Tish. The girl hesitated for a moment, but then hurried away, leaving Lucy to ponder. 

Like what? She tucked a lock of golden hair behind her ear and frowned, looking down despairingly at her reflection in the pristine, polished conference table. 

Before she could reach conclusions too dark, however, she sensed someone else approaching from behind, and then a plate of steaming pancakes, drizzled in strawberry syrup – Lucy’s favorite – and whipped cream was placed in front of her, along with polished silverware and a small glass of orange juice. 

She frowned and looked up to find Francine Jones standing above her. “You need to eat. You’re too thin as it is, you need to treat yourself better. I’m going to clean your bedroom, and when I come back here, I want at least some of that gone. Understand?” she demanded in a stern, motherly tone. 

Lucy was shocked, but she didn’t have time to collect herself and respond before Francine turned on her heel and strode back into the dark, steamy corridors of the Valiant. Lucy was left there again, stunned by the woman’s kindness. Less than a week ago, Lucy had smacked her and hadn’t spoken to her since, but she had just brought the girl breakfast and had commanded her to eat it with motherly concern. 

In response to Francine’s unanswered question: No, Lucy did not understand. Martha’s entire family – except perhaps her father, whose name Lucy had failed to learn but suspected it started with the letter “C” – befuddled Lucy entirely. How the hell can they find room to be so kind to Lucy when she and her husband filled their days with murder, torture, humiliation, and psychological abuse, along with abuse of every other kind? 

She only ate a few bites of her pancakes, worrying that she would vomit if she ate more than two or three slices of the buttery pastry. Orange juice left untouched, Lucy delicately stood and ventured across the control room, past the watchful Doctor, and up the stairs onto the control platform. 

Her husband had long since disappeared to take care of more urgent matters, and hadn’t even said a word to his dearly beloved when he left the conference room. 

Lucy only glanced at the techies, hard at work in front of their computers and machines, and they didn’t return her look before she drifted to the gigantic, pristine window at the front of the ship which allowed her to look down upon her – the Master’s kingdom. Her hands rested on the cool windowsill, the chill bleeding into her body and making her shiver, but she didn’t remove them. 

Lucy stared out at the Earth, at the horrible Toclafane zooming past, at the billows of smoke, the ash blanketing cities, the flickering glow of enormous fires. Everything down there reminded the girl of the darkness to come. When her eye caught on the red and orange glow of tongues of flame, all she could see was the furnaces, burning, charring, the stench of roasting flesh invading and offending all of her senses, the smoke stinging her eyes. 

The Toclafane hovering past only brought back the horrific images of the creatures wriggling and quivering in the dark, coated in their own blood and the blood of their fellow humans, screaming and clawing. The black smoke blanketing the masses only remembered her of the darkness, the eternal darkness, the hungry, black, suffocating shroud of doom and hopelessness that trapped all surviving creatures at the end of the Universe.


	8. Wonderland Daydreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy tries to recover from what happened last chapter.

Finally, this poor human girl couldn’t look any longer. She turned her eyes from the apocalyptic landscape and stumbled toward the stairs, one hand on her belly as if it would stop the rising tide of vomit in the back of her throat. Her hand gripped desperately to the railing of the stairs, knuckles white with the effort of keeping her upright.

The Doctor, sitting at the bottom of the stairs and staring almost obsessively at her, caught Lucy’s attention and she blushed with shame before averting her eyes.

It took her a long time to finish her slow, unsteady trek down the stairs, but she made sure to be as far away from the Doctor as she could possibly be, and then she shakily hurried out of the control room and navigated the corridors of the Valiant.

She reached her bathroom and rushed to the toilet, flipping the seat cover up and bracing herself against the seat just in time for vomit to gurgle out of her throat and plop in the bowl with a disgusting noise. She stifled a sob and retched some more, but there wasn’t much for her to dispose of. Three bites of pancake left her with only bile and a sore stomach.

When she was finished vomiting, Lucy didn’t flee the bathroom. She crumpled on the ground, leaning on the toilet for support and holding her head in her hands.

Lucy cried. Tears dampened her face and splashed onto the icy tiles underneath her. Tiles that were, only twenty minutes earlier this morning, just a bit chilly now felt like Lucy was sitting on blocks of ice. Her small, frail body was racked with sobs, her lungs heaving and pathetic mewling noises escaping her mouth and whistling out of her throat.

_Like what?_ It took a long time for Lucy to stop crying, longer than she would’ve liked. When her sobs finally stopped, bare of tears anymore, she sat there for a long time, but she wasn’t sure how long.

Time had long since lost all meaning to her on board this ship.

When she finally gathered enough strength and courage to stand, she did so slowly, tenderly stretching out cramped joints and sore muscles, and then she caught a reflection of herself in the mirror.

Lucy Saxon looked like a creature, one of the Master’s monsters. Makeup streaked down her face and vomit was caked at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were red and puffy, hair disheveled and streaked with tears and bile, clothes rumpled, eyes so old and dull, drained of hope and youth. She was looking in the mirror at a completely different person.

When she was a child, Lucy had imagined that every mirror was a gateway to a different place, a magical wonderland where Cheshire Cats awaited with half-moon smiles and glistening green eyes, roly-poly twin boys in striped shirts, waddling along beside a smoking caterpillar and a lovely, porcelain White Queen. Lucy had never before wished so badly that this realm was real. If she could only climb across this granite counter, slip through the shimmering mirror, and be immersed in a world where the whimsical flourished, where the biggest threat was a queen dressed in red with an oddly shaped head. Her fantasy world was much preferred to one where evil and corruption feasted upon the weak and strong alike, instead of a world that fed the whimsical and lighthearted.

Dejected, Lucy stripped out of her nightgown, leaned into the shower, turned on the hot water, and waited for it to warm up. A hand under the steady stream of water told her that the shower was ready, and she stepped inside the small, glass cubicle and lowered her head. Tolerably hot water washed over her trembling body. It stung a bit, but it was a good sting. It was a sting that was just enough to bring her back to reality, instead of allowing her to wallow in her girlhood fantasies.

Lucy conjured up the strength to raise her head and close her eyes, letting the water wash over her face and clean her of her ruined makeup. Her hair clung to her back as she squeezed a generous amount of coconut scented shampoo into her palm and then massaged it into her scalp and hair, calming and relaxing her. Once her hair was thoroughly sudsy, she dipped her head underneath the shower water and rinsed the shampoo from her hair, and then she applied conditioner and let it soak into her hair as she used a citrus-scented body wash to cleanse herself of the imagined grime that coated every inch of her.

It took several vigorous sessions of scrubbing before she felt even close to clean, so she allowed herself to rinse off her irritated, red skin and wash the conditioner out of her hair. She spent only a few minutes shaving her underarms and then she soaked in the shower for longer than she could keep track of.

The only reason she turned the water off was because she looked down and found her fingers pruned and realized that she had adjusted to the water and it now felt cold. Standing for a moment in the hot humidity, Lucy finally reached out of the shower and snatched a towel with which to wrap her hair in, and then she grabbed another towel to wrap around her body. The girl stepped out of the shower and sat down on the toilet, and then used a third towel to pat her legs dry, and then move up to her thighs, belly, chest, neck, face.

When she was completely dry, she browsed through her closet for a bright pink dress, hoping that the cheery color would put her in a cheery mood. She returned to the bathroom and dressed, and then blow-dried her hair and put it up. When she looked back in the mirror, she managed a feeble smile at herself. Clean, proper, young, Lucy. She didn’t apply too much makeup, just some mascara and a hint of blush to give her less of a sickly appearance, and then Lucy managed to stroll out of the bathroom and slip on a pair of matching pink heels.

Examining herself in a full body mirror, Lucy thought that she no longer looked like some neglected, abused, sickly animal, but a proud politician’s wife. Good. Lucy hovered in her room for a moment before crossing to the dresser and scooping up a thin book without looking at the cover. As she was leaving, however, she nearly crashed into her husband, who was strolling purposefully into the room. Lucy stared up at him with wide eyes, speechless, not sure what to say to him after they hadn’t spoken in such a while.

His previously scowl-marred face stretched into a bright grin and he beamed down at his wife, who was chilled to the bone by his cheery smile. It wasn’t kind or charismatic, anymore. It was hungry, predatory, cold, insane. Lucy’s mind filled with adjectives for his smile, but her mind was too muddled by terror to process them all.

“Lucy!” he cried happily. She swallowed her fear and managed a thin smile.

“Hello,” she managed, her voice too small to be convincing that she was glad to see him.

“I’ve missed you so much, my dear! I’m sorry I haven’t been able to find the time for you, I’ve just been so busy! Did you see the destruction of Belgium yesterday? It was quite a spectacle. I don’t know how you could’ve missed it – I played the whole thing on every screen in the Valiant. I don’t like Belgium. Not even proper French. Anyways, did you like it?”

“It was beautiful, Harry,” Lucy admitted. Yes, she’d seen it, and yes, it was beautiful. Horrible, but beautiful. He beamed down at her and pressed a brief kiss onto her lips, then pushed past her into the bedroom and sat down on the bed. Lucy hovered there, unsure of what she should do. Was he expecting her to go to him? Lucy doubted that he’d gone as long without sex as she had; he had free roam of every living person on board the Valiant, to do with as he pleased, and she knew that he wasn’t faithful to her. He never had been.

Perhaps this was one of the reasons why her subconscious loathed him. After a few moments, he raised one eyebrow and regarded her with a bored, inquisitive expression. “Well? What’re you still doing here?” he demanded impatiently.

“You don’t want me to be here…?”

“Not exactly. Why would I?”

“Well… I thought you’d want to… you know.”

“Have sex with you? God, no!” He laughed boisterously, throwing his head back and cackling up at the ceiling. “I mean, no offense, but you’re not exactly the best lover.”

“But… I thought you-“

“You thought I liked fucking you? In your dreams, little Lucy. You were merely something to do in my spare time. A way to pleasure myself, if you understand.”

“Sorry, what?” she demanded with disbelief, rage roiling in her gut.

“Deaf, are you? Even your hearing is worthless, like the rest of your filthy race. You’re useless to me.”

“Why the hell did you marry me, then?” she demanded angrily.

“Well, I did need a wife. A pleasing Prime Minister is always accompanied by some lovely, well-off little girl from London’s finest. I had an image to maintain, Lucy! You understand.”

“No, I don’t!” Lucy snapped. She felt the rage bubbling in her gut, the sliver of loathing in her subconscious swelling and threatening to overtake her. She didn’t like this darkness that nested in her mind, but there was nothing she could do about it. Perhaps it would even help her, in some odd way. The Master squinted at her and she could detect fury in his honey-brown eyes. His lips tightened, which wasn’t a good sign, but Lucy simply couldn’t stop herself.

“You can’t just-just use me like that! You swagger into my life and make me fall in love with you, and you lead me on like some sort of blind, dumb cow, and then as soon as you’ve gotten what you want you just dump me on the side of the road, leave me by the wayside while you have better things to be wasting your time on than poor, stupid little Lucy! Well, Harry,” she spat in a mocking tone, her face reddening with rage, “why don’t you just drop me off on Earth and leave me there to rot, or burn, or suffocate, or be sliced or torn to bits by one of your damn Toclafane, and why don’t you just fuck off!” Her rant ended in a scream, jabbing an accusing finger in his direction and huffing like a bull ready to charge, with tears wetting her face.

Now, the white-hot fury in his eyes was unmistakable, the danger imminent. The Master stood slowly, gracefully, took time to straighten his tie and smoothed down the lapels of his suit, and then took three strides toward her. She wanted to skitter away like a frightened animal, but she remained her ground and managed to look up into his fiery eyes without trembling. She knew this look. This was the look that many people had seen just before they’d been ruthlessly murdered, but now it was directed toward her.

In some demented, delirious part of her mind, she thought that he was only treating her this way because he loved her, because he was forging a better future, a future without all the bloodshed and fire and screaming. Reality, however, granted her a much more chilling look on what was going on. The Master grinned. Before she realized what was happening, she felt the back of the Master’s hand smashing into her cheek, the numbness, and then the burn of the assault.

There was something wet on her cheek, dripping onto her dress. She assumed it was tears – her eyes were brimming with them, after all – but when she looked down, her pink dress was stained by thick dribbles of red. Not tears, blood. Thick, hot, candy-red blood. When she looked back up at her husband, she saw not remorse in his face but delight. Dark, angry delight. His grin only widened, cold and sinister and terrible.

Tears slipped out of Lucy’s eyes, dripped off of her lashes, and landed with soft plips onto the shag carpet, staining her dress and mixing in with the blood marring the soft pink material. She looked down at her fallen tears and found a second source of dripping blood. Harry’s chunky, green signet ring. That’s why she was bleeding. She looked back up at him with big, pleading eyes, her cheek aching and her stomach turning as if she was going to be sick again.

“P-please, I’m s-sorry,” she stuttered helplessly, her voice small and vulnerable. Gazing down at her with twisted glee, he raised his hand again and struck her a second time, on the already-bruising side of her face. She reeled from the impact and stumbled back from him, clutching her face and feeling warm, wet blood seeping through her fingers and slithering down her arm to drip off of her elbow.

Knowing that he would take great joy in hitting her multiple times, instead of a meager two times, she scrambled away from him, fear making adrenaline course through her, her heart racing, her lungs pumping, throat tight, every sense alert and ready to bolt like a rabbit in the face of potential danger, looking up at him with those eyes, those horrible, snakelike eyes and that Cheshire Cat grin, suddenly her Through the Looking Glass world didn’t seem so welcoming because she would see that grin there, everywhere, in the sky, in the moon, twisting and turning and curling around her like the darkness, the infinite darkness and smoke and flames at the end of the Universe, the horrible end that the Master had orchestrated, and there he was, ready to orchestrate a horrible Universe for her, ready to hit her again, and again, and again, and again, along to the rhythm of the never-ending drums pounding in his head, the drums that he told her so often about, the drums that pained him every day, every hour, every minute, every second of his life, the drums that had always been there and would never leave as long as he was living, as long as he was breathing, as long as his hearts beat in his body, and that’s what he’d told Lucy on so many occasions, and now she was scared, so scared and so alone and so small and fragile and there he was, big and terrifying and ready to hurt her, hurt her so bad, and she was afraid, so afraid.

She squeezed her eyes shut, braced for impact, and gritted her teeth… but no impact came. Slowly, timidly, cautiously, she opened one eye to find… nothing. The Master was gone. But she hadn’t heard anything! How had he been able to leave so suddenly and silently? Seeing that he was nowhere to be found, Lucy slumped to the ground and didn’t remove her hands from her face, her bleeding face, her bruised face, her injured face.

Lucy found herself again in a flood of salty tears, stinging the large gash on her otherwise lovely cheek and mixing with the blood oozing through her fingers. Of course, there weren’t many tears left in her small body, so for a long time she just sat there, shaking hard with the force of her body-jerking sobs, but no tears fell. None left. Curled into a small, tight, shivering ball, Lucy Saxon was numb again. Being empty felt wonderful, so she made the choice to stay there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done! I think I'm going to post on Cinnamon and Mint Leaves, only because a lot of people like it. It kinda died, but maybe I can get some inspiration and keep writing idk.


	9. The Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one was sooner than the rest, isn't it? Sorry about how long it takes to post chapters, I've just gotten really busy. School, and I have a job now, and I have driving lessons on Saturdays, and my sister is expecting a baby boy REALLY soon.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one! Leave nice comments if you want :)

The day after the incident, Lucy woke with a splitting headache, her cheek aching worse than any bruise she’d ever suffered. She moaned in pain and slowly sat up, looking around the room. 

One eye was nearly swelled shut, which made Lucy feel vulnerable and weak, unable to see out of one eye. This was nonsense, of course. The inability to see properly out of one eye didn’t make her weak, and the Master wasn’t going to sneak up behind her from her blinded side and beat her bloody. At least, she didn’t think he would. She hoped he wouldn’t. That was certainly something Lucy could see him doing, however. 

As she surveyed the room, she was relieved to see that he was nowhere to be seen. She was safe, for now. Although she swung her legs out of bed and stood on the soft carpet, Lucy wasn’t sure that she would be able to go out into the conference room today, not with this ugly bruise on her face. She was supposed to be beautiful, not some sort of freak at the brutal hands of the Master. That’s what she was, of course. Just the Master’s freak. 

The thought of everything he’d said last night brought tears back into her eyes. She found it difficult – but strangely easy – to believe that he had only been using her, and he’d tricked her into falling deeply in love with him as some sort of twisted ploy to gain the public’s approval. 

Lucy held her head in her hands, and then squeaked in pain when she remembered the bruise. Sighing, she shuffled out of her bedroom without even changing, putting on a robe, doing her makeup, fixing and brushing her hair, brushing her teeth, even. There was no motivation anymore. 

Her feet dragged along the corridors, and she was slouching heavily, her eyes fixed on the ground. When she came into the conference room, she felt eyes on her, drawn to the horrible bruise on her cheek, and her arms crossed in the front of her body in a defensive pose, warding her against their sympathy and sad eyes. 

She slipped into a seat at the conference table, slouching and hiding in her hunched shoulders, and didn’t make eye contact with anyone, although she knew they were staring. Shame flooded her face and no doubt turned her ugly purple-blue bruise even darker than it was before as her cheeks flushed embarrassed shades of red. 

Today, when Francine approached and timidly asked what Lucy wanted for breakfast, the poor girl didn’t even recognize her existence. She just stared straight forward, her eyes wide and empty, and didn’t move until Francine left. This time, she didn’t press Lucy to eat. 

 

The day carried on uneventfully, until about midday, when the Master came to pay Lucy a visit. She was sitting on the bed, staring at the pages of a book but not reading the words, when he climbed onto the bed and nibbled at her neck. 

“Hello, Lucy,” he purred, a finger trailing down her blouse. “I’ve hardly been able to resist you all day. That lovely bruise has got me all sorts of worked up. You look so beautiful. I think I should make you beautiful more often.” His voice and thinly veiled threat sent chills down her spine, but she didn’t shiver. 

She couldn’t think of anything that made her shiver anymore. After a few more moments of enduring his wandering hands and restless mouth, Lucy worked up the courage to turn her head and look at him from her empty eyes and find him grinning viciously. She shivered. It seemed that her shiver only turned the madman on more, and his prowling hands lifted the skirt of her dress, grabbed her ankles, and dragged her across the bed until she was completely lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling and seeing the human race burn, feeling the ache of her injured cheek, hearing his cold words. 

He slipped his long, cool, nimble fingers into her knickers and explored her cunt, which was bone-dry and in no way welcoming for him. He rolled his eyes and then prowled through a drawer in the bedside table for a large bottle of lube, from which he squeezed out a generous portion and thoroughly coated two fingers. Gently, he pushed these fingers inside of her and stretched the girl out, more for his comfort than hers. 

She could see through his act, now, and the only way she could justify him bothering to have sex with her was because of the ugly piece of art he’d so graciously bestowed upon her cheek. The bruise and the gash pleased him very much, but Lucy didn’t care. She couldn’t try to care if she’d wanted to. 

She stared up at the ceiling and felt him pushing into her, heard him groaning throatily, but remained indifferent. There was no pleasure here, just duty. Duty to what, she wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. 

It seemed like a long time before the Master was finished with her, and emptied himself inside of her with a long, low groan. He grinned, brushed his lips against her neck, and pulled out of her, and then simply tucked himself back in and strolled out of their bedroom. 

She laid there for a few minutes, not sure how many minutes, and then managed to sit up, pull up her knickers, and smooth out her dress before rolling onto her side and crying herself to sleep. It was the middle of the day, only three months into their new empire on the Valiant. 

 

Her stomach writhed inside of her. The minute Lucy woke, only a week or a week and a half after the incident, she bolted out of the bed, scrambled into the bathroom, and made it just in time to vomit into the toilet. She only vomited acidic bile, however, because it had been a long time since she’d eaten anything, and she found her stomach feeling unpleasantly hollow and aching. 

When Lucy was finished convulsing above the porcelain bowl, she shakily got to her feet and stumbled into the conference room, one hand on her sensitive stomach, where she ordered Tish to bring her some food she was craving very much – French toast and mashed potatoes. 

After the girl only pondered for a second over Lucy’s strange order, she hurried off, and Lucy slumped into her seat at the conference table. The Master was nowhere to be seen, but the Doctor was looking worse than ever. He was still chained to the handrail and he leaned against the handrail heavily, his eyes half closed, dark bags underneath said eyes, his formerly slim-fitting suit hanging off of him, his face as pale as Lucy’s. 

Although he wore no obvious bruises, Lucy knew from what the Master had told her that Time Lords didn’t bruise as easily as humans, so she knew that the Master was abusing him to his hearts’ content. The two abused whims of the lunatic only made eye contact for a few meager seconds before Lucy looked away. Her stomach was still twisting and turning, threatening to make her vomit all over the pristine surface of the glass table, but she devoured her breakfast when it was brought to her. Lucy was famished. 

As if there was something inside of her, sucking up all her resources… she paled at the thought, her eyes widening in horror. No. It couldn’t be. Please, please. Abruptly, the girl stood, knocking over her chair, and hurried back into her bathroom. She dug around for a long time, frantically tearing apart the drawers in her bathroom, but she didn’t find what she was looking for. 

Desperately, Lucy burst into the kitchen and grabbed Latisha’s arm, whirling her around and staring pleadingly into her shocked, brown eyes. “Do you have any pregnancy sticks?” she demanded. Wordless, Tish shook her head, and Lucy frowned before hurrying out of the kitchen. She didn’t want to be seen in here by anyone, in case she got in trouble with her husband. 

Lucy squeezed her eyes shut and firmly shook her head, forcing herself to take her hands off of her perfectly normal, perfectly flat stomach. Of course she wasn’t. She couldn’t be! Hopefully, rapt belief would purge her of the idea altogether. Lucy shuddered and then took a deep breath before stumbling back to her room.

 

When she woke up, Lucy again instantly darted for the bathroom. After emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet, she wiped her mouth and hurried past the mirror, not even sparing it a glance. Lately, she didn’t look at the mirror, because she didn’t like what she would see in its surface. 

Every day aboard the Valiant was the same. Lucy would wake up, puke, fix herself up only if absolutely necessary, and then drift into the conference room, followed by different parts of the gigantic ship. Four months, and Lucy knew every nook and cranny of the ship. 

She frequently visited her favorites to cry her eyes out or vomit, and she didn’t care if the workers were responsible for cleaning up her mess. They didn’t matter; they would be dead soon enough. Everyone would be dead. Burning, shrieking, writhing, clawing, crying out into the dark and throwing themselves into the flames. 

Today, people acted strangely around her. Their eyes were glued to the brand-new bruises on the poor girl’s porcelain face, but they also fell lower, toward her stomach. When Lucy looked down, she convinced herself that she’d just gained weight somehow. She’d heard that not eating for a long time could bloat the stomach, so perhaps that was the explanation. Anyways, the bump in her stomach wasn’t too big, just a gentle curve underneath her nightgown. 

When Tish approached, she gave Lucy a small smile after glancing down at her belly, but the smile was laced with disgust and horror. The girl didn’t comfort Lucy at all, so she was sent away, and Lucy went without eating today. Lucy later realized that this was a very, very bad choice. 

Denying the existence of a baby wouldn’t make it disappear, and this was no normal baby. It was growing inside her at a rate faster than that of any human baby. Time Lord children were born within a span of three months, one-third of the human gestation period. Because Lucy was human, not Time Lord, this baby was sucking the life out of her – quite literally. The child was absorbing her life force, feeding and growing off of it, along with taking in almost all nutrients from her body. If Lucy didn’t begin feeding and nourishing herself properly, she would wither into a husk and die within days, taking the baby with her into the black. 

Of course, she didn’t know this. Even when she did admit that she was pregnant, Lucy didn’t know if she wanted to keep the baby or kill it. According to her and many others, the thing was an abomination, a creature, the devilish spawn of the Master and his sick, gleeful games. 

On the other hand, Lucy loved him, and she wanted a baby. She wanted something to take care of, something to distract her from the horrible things that the Master so enjoyed doing, something to bring light into the darkness on this ship. The baby would be born into death, and destruction, and fire, but it could be worth it. 

She didn’t notice it at first, but the Doctor desperately tried to get closer to her. He and the Master alone had the ability to sense the baby inside of her, growing and feasting. The Master didn’t notice, of course. He was never near Lucy long enough to notice the life form growing inside of her, but the Doctor did. Instead of simply handcuffing him to the stairwell, the Master had fastened a lovely, humiliating, frilly pink collar around his neck that would shock him with disarming volts of electricity strong enough to knock him off his feet and blow him unconscious at the touch of a button. 

Of course, every single guard and the Master contained a remote that would give them the pleasure of torturing the Doctor as they pleased, but the only one that took advantage of this weaponry was the Master himself. He often spent many, many hours with the Doctor, cackling as his shrieks ripped through the airship, throwing his head back, clapping with glee every time his thumb pressed down firmly on the trigger button, every time the Doctor fell to the ground, and writhed in agony, contorting like a snake and arching his back in anguish. On these occasions, the Master had the ability to turn down the voltage just enough to keep him conscious long enough to have fun, but high enough to make the Doctor howl with suffering. It was horrible. For the Master, it was delightfully arousing. For Lucy, it was bone chilling. 

Today, Lucy noticed the Doctor’s interest in her. The two made eye contact on more than one occasion, but Lucy and the Doctor both quickly looked away. Finally, he approached her and sat two seats away from her, either to make sure she had enough space or to make sure that the Master wouldn’t punish them both. Either way, it was necessary. “You really should start eating,” he advised. Lucy looked up from staring at her untended fingernails and gazed at him with empty eyes. When she didn’t say anything, the Doctor continued. “For the baby, you know.”

“The… baby?”

“Surely you’ve noticed.”

The girl remained silent and averted her eyes. 

“Oh, God. You hadn’t. I’m s-sorry; I just assumed… well, being pregnant is a bit hard to miss. I admit, I’m a bit baffled as to how you didn’t notice sooner.”

At more of the girl’s silence, he frowned. “Oh. You didn’t want to notice. I understand. If I were you, I probably wouldn’t want it either. You’re going to keep it, though? I mean, I dunno if you have much of a choice in the matter. The Master isn’t exactly loaded with baby stuff, and a lot of it’s probably destroyed down on Earth.”

Boy, that Doctor could talk. Lucy didn’t mind, though. His cheery babble was perhaps just what she needed right now. 

“I could sense it, though. I could smell your child. Not in an odd way, or anything, but I can rather smell the life force, the new life force from it. Time Lords can do that, you know. He’s going to be beautiful, you know. Just like-“ the Doctor cut himself off mid-sentence, but Lucy knew what he was going to say. Just like his father. He wasn’t wrong. The Master was beautiful, but he was horrible. She didn’t want a child like the Master. 

Finally, she worked up the strength to say something. “Doctor, I’m…” she stuttered, hanging her head. Her voice was barely a whisper, and the Doctor moved over a chair closer to her in order to hear her better. 

“Yes? What is it? You can tell me, Lucy,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? What on Earth for?”

“For this. For all of it. Everything he does to you, to everyone else, to the Earth… it’s my fault.”

“How the hell is it your fault?” the Doctor demanded. Lucy scrubbed hot tears off her cheeks, but found her hands in the cool grip of the Doctor’s. His hands were different from the Master’s. They had the same odd, pleasant coolness, but they were gentle, gentler than Harry had ever been with her. They were large, and manly, and they cradled her small, fragile hands with comforting care. 

When Lucy didn’t look up at him, one of the hands left hers and he slipped two fingers beneath her chin, lifting her head to look at him. “Lucy, how is it your fault?” he implored. 

She shook her head, more tears spilling from her lashes and streaking down her face, splattering onto the backs of the Doctor’s hands. She looked down at the wet mess she’d made and felt bad, but he didn’t seem to mind. He acted as if there was nothing wrong at all, except for the pitying expression in his eyes. Suddenly, he leaned forward and wrapped her in a big, loving hug, a hug unlike any of that she’d ever experienced, and it confused her. She didn’t deserve this, and she truly believed that. She’d married the worst man she’d ever met, fallen in love with him, and then assisted him in taking over the world, but had felt no remorse or questions about it at the time. 

Lucy had stood aside while the Master had his way with whomever he pleased, while he tortured, humiliated, and raped the Doctor, abused him in more ways than anyone should have to suffer in any amount of lifetimes. She pushed the Doctor away before the Master could walk in on the two of them. Of course, he was nowhere to be found now, but Lucy had learned to be paranoid. 

He could be around any corner, lurking in any shadow, waiting at the end of any corridor, with that Cheshire Cat grin and those snake eyes. 

The Doctor looked down at Lucy with pity in his warm, brown, doe eyes, so different from the Master’s, so much better. Lucy felt something swelling in her chest at just the sight of the Doctor, knowing how much he cared about her despite all the horrible things she’d done and let her husband do, and on an impulse, Lucy suddenly lurched forward and mashed her lips against the Doctor’s, squeezing her eyes shut and holding onto his hands as if they were a rope that would pull her to safety. 

She felt him beginning to pull away and her grip on his hands tightened, despite his protesting noises. They weren’t very desperate noises, so Lucy didn’t think she was bothering him too much, until she realized what she was doing and yanked away, just as the Doctor began to kiss her back. 

His eyes opened wide when she pulled away from him and she held her hands close to her chest, staring at him with wide, frightened eyes, like a deer in headlights. His expression quickly melted from shocked to sympathetic, and he slipped his hand on top of hers. She put a hand over her mouth and sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut and openly crying in front of him. 

His thumb gently caressing the back of her hand, she could feel the Doctor’s empathetic eyes on her, not judging her, just watching her. Being there was comfort enough, especially when Lucy had been so alone lately. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she leaned forward and buried her face in the Doctor’s shoulder, her frail, little body racked with sobs. 

She was still locked in disbelief, it's dark tendrils coiling around her mind, but the Doctor was breaking through. It was really possible. She really was pregnant. With the Master’s child. She hadn’t been in the Doctor’s arms long enough when they heard the automatic doors into the control room sliding open, but it was too late for them to act as if nothing had happened. 

The Master stepped into the room and the first thing he saw was his wife in the Doctor’s arms, depending on him. Their heads jerked to look at him, his eyes full of cold fury. Lucy shot to her feet, her eyes brimming with fat, hot tears that blurred her vision of the psychopath. 

All she knew was that the Master was striding toward her, but before she was even able to try to scramble away, he’d seized a fistful of her hair and smacked her, hard, across the face. She cried out and he let go of her hair, allowing her to drop to the floor and cover her injured face, still not completely healed from the last time he’d hit her. When she heard the Doctor scream in anger at the Master for her, she didn’t look up and tried to block out the sound of a fist plunging into a gut, and then a guttural groan and another body hitting the floor. 

Lucy lifted her head a bit and was only able to make out blurred images through her hot tears, images of the Master kicking his shoe into the Doctor’s gut over, and over, and over, and over. The sound was fuzzy, but Lucy faintly heard herself screaming.


End file.
